THE   BOOK  OF  DELIGHT 

AND 

OTHER  PAPERS 


THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT 

AND 

OTHER  PAPERS 


BY 

ISRAEL  ABRAHAMS,  M.  A. 

Author  of  "Jewish  Life  in  the  Middle   Ages,"    "Chapters  on 
Jewish  Literature,"  etc. 


PHILADELPHIA 
THK  JEWISH  PUBLICATION  SOCIETY  or  AMERICA 

1912 


COPYRIGHT,  1912, 

BY 
THE  JEWISH  PUBLICATION  SOCIETY  OF  AMERICA 


PREFACE 

, 

The  chapters  of  this  volume  were  almost  all 
spoken  addresses.  The  author  has  not  now  changed 
their  character  as  such,  for  it  seemed  to  him  that 
to  convert  them  into  formal  essays  would  be  to  rob 
them  of  any  little  attraction  they  may  possess. 

One  of  the  addresses — that  on  "  Medieval  Way 
faring  " — was  originally  spoken  in  Hebrew,  in 
Jerusalem.  It  was  published,  in  part,  in  English 
in  the  London  Jewish  Chronicle,  and  the  author  is 
indebted  to  the  conductors  of  that  periodical  for 
permission  to  include  this,  and  other  material,  in 
the  present  collection. 

Some  others  of  the  chapters  have  been  printed 
before,  but  a  considerable  proportion  of  the  volume 
is  quite  new,  and  even  those  addresses  that  are  re 
printed  are  now  given  in  a  fuller  and  much  revised 
text. 

As  several  of  the  papers  were  intended  for  pop 
ular  audiences,  the  author  is  persuaded  that  it  would 
ill  accord  with  his  original  design  to  overload  the 
book  with  notes  and  references.  These  have  been 

5 


PREFACE 

supplied  only  where  absolutely  necessary,  and  a  few 
additional  notes  are  appended  at  the  end  of  the 
volume. 

The  author  realizes  that  the  book  can  have  little 
permanent  value.  But  as  these  addresses  seemed  to 
give  pleasure  to  those  who  heard  them,  he  thought 
it  possible  that  they  might  provide  passing  enter 
tainment  also  to  those  who  are  good  enough  to  read 
them. 

ISRAEL  ABRAHAMS 

CAMBRIDGE,  ENG.,  September,  1911 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.  "  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 9 

II.  A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 62 

III.  THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 93 

IV.  MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING    122 

V.  THE  Fox's  HEART 159 

VI.  "  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN  " 172 

VII.  HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 184 

VIII.  A  HANDFUL  OF  CURIOSITIES 

i.  George  Eliot  and  Solomon  Maimon 242 

ii.  How  Milton  Pronounced  Hebrew 247 

iii.  The  Cambridge  Platonists 251 

iv.  The  Anglo-Jewish  Yiddish  Literary  Society 255 

v.  The  Mystics  and  Saints  of  India 259 

vi.  Lost  Purim  Joys 266 

vii.  Jews  and  Letters 273 

viii.  The  Shape  of  Matzoth 290 

NOTES    3oi 

INDEX 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  ' 

Joseph  Zabara  has  only  in  recent  times  received 
the  consideration  justly  due  to  him.  Yet  his 
"  Book  of  Delight,"  finished  about  the  year  1200, 
is  more  than  a  poetical  romance.  It  is  a  golden  link 
between  folk-literature  and  imaginative  poetry. 
The  style  is  original,  and  the  framework  of  the 
story  is  an  altogether  fresh  adaptation  of  a  famous 
legend.  The  anecdotes  and  epigrams  introduced 
incidentally  also  partake  of  this  twofold  quality. 
The  author  has  made  them  his  own,  yet  they  are 
mostly  adapted  rather  than  invented.  Hence,  the 
poem  is  as  valuable  to  the  folklorist  as  to  the 
literary  critic.  For,  though  Zabara's  compilation 
is  similar  to  such  well-known  models  as  the  "  Book 
of  Sindbad,"  the  Kalilah  ve-Dimnah,  and  others 
of  the  same  class,  yet  its  appearance  in  Europe  is 
half  a  century  earlier  than  the  translations  by  which 
these  other  products  of  the  East  became  part  of 
the  popular  literature  of  the  Western  world.  At 
the  least,  then,  the  "  Book  of  Delight  "  is  an  impor 
tant  addition  to  the  scanty  store  of  the  folk-lore 

9 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

records  of  the  early  part  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
The  folk-lore  interest  of  the  book  is,  indeed, 
greater  than  was  known  formerly,  for  it  is  now 
recognized  as  a  variant  of  the  Solomon-Marcolf 
legend.  On  this  more  will  be  said  below. 

As  a  poet  and  as  a  writer  of  Hebrew,  Joseph 
Zabara's  place  is  equally  significant.  He  was  one 
of  the  first  to  write  extended  narratives  in  He 
brew  rhymed  prose  with  interspersed  snatches  of 
verse,  the  form  invented  by  Arabian  poets,  and 
much  esteemed  as  the  medium  for  story-telling  and 
for  writing  social  satire.  The  best  and  best-known 
specimens  of  this  form  of  poetry  in  Hebrew  are 
Charizi's  Tachkemom,  and  his  translation  of 
Hariri.  Zabara  has  less  art  than  Charizi,  and  far 
less  technical  skill,  yet  in  him  all  the  qualities  are 
in  the  bud  that  Charizi's  poems  present  in  the  full 
blown  flower.  The  reader  of  Zabara  feels  that 
other  poets  will  develop  his  style  and  surpass  him ; 
the  reader  of  Charizi  knows  of  a  surety  that  in  him 
the  style  has  reached  its  climax. 

Of  Joseph  Zabara  little  is  known  beyond  what 
may  be  gleaned  from  a  discriminating  study  of  the 
"  Book  of  Delight."  That  this  romance  is  largely 
autobiographical  in  fact,  as  it  is  in  form,  there  can 
be  no  reasonable  doubt.  The  poet  writes  with  so 

10 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

much  indignant  warmth  of  the  dwellers  in  certain 
cities,  of  their  manner  of  life,  their  morals,  and 
their  culture,  that  one  can  only  infer  that  he  is  re 
lating  his  personal  experiences.  Zabara,  like  the 
hero  of  his  romance,  travelled  much  during  the 
latter  portion  of  the  twelfth  century,  as  is  known 
from  the  researches  of  Geiger.  He  was  born  in 
Barcelona,  and  returned  there  to  die.  In  the  inter 
val,  we  find  him  an  apt  pupil  of  Joseph  Kimchi,  in 
Narbonne.  Joseph  Kimchi,  the  founder  of  the 
famous  Kimchi  family,  carried  the  culture  of  Spain 
to  Provence;  and  Joseph  Zabara  may  have  ac 
quired  from  Kimchi  his  mastery  over  Hebrew, 
which  he  writes  with  purity  and  simplicity.  The 
difficulties  presented  in  some  passages  of  the  "  Book 
of  Delight  "  are  entirely  due  to  the  corrupt  state  of 
the  text.  Joseph  Kimchi,  who  flourished  in  Pro 
vence  from  1150  to  1170,  quotes  Joseph  Zabara 
twice,  with  approval,  in  explaining  verses  in  Pro 
verbs,  It  would  thus  seem  that  Zabara,  even  in  his 
student  days,  was  devoted  to  the  proverb-lore  on 
which  he  draws  so  lavishly  in  his  maturer  work. 

Dr.  Steinschneider,  to  whom  belongs  the  credit 
of  rediscovering  Zabara  in  modern  times,  infers 
that  the  poet  was  a  physician.  There  is  more 
than  probability  in  the  case;  there  is  certainty. 

11 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

The  romance  is  built  by  a  doctor;  there  is  more 
talk  of  medicine  in  it  than  of  any  other  topic 
of  discussion.  Moreover,  the  author,  who  denies 
that  he  is  much  of  a  Talmudist,  accepts  the  compli 
ment  paid  to  him  by  his  visitor,  Enan,  that  he  is 
"  skilled  and  well-informed  in  the  science  of  medi 
cine."  There  is,  too,  a  professional  tone  about 
many  of  the  quips  and  gibes  in  which  Zabara  in 
dulges  concerning  doctors.  Here,  for  instance,  is 
an  early  form  of  a  witticism  that  has  been  attributed 
to  many  recent  humorists.  "  A  philosopher,"  says 
Zabara,  "  was  sick  unto  death,  and  his  doctor  gave 
him  up;  yet  the  patient  recovered.  The  convales 
cent  was  walking  in  the  street  when  the  doctor  met 
him.  '  You  come/  said  he,  '  from  the  other  world/ 
*  Yes,'  rejoined  the  patient,  *  I  come  from  there, 
and  I  saw  there  the  awful  retribution  that  falls  on 
doctors;  for  they  kill  their  patients.  Yet,  do 
not  feel  alarmed.  You  will  not  suffer.  I  told  them 
on  my  oath  that  you  are  no  doctor/  " 

Again,  in  one  of  the  poetical  interludes  (found 
only  in  the  Constantinople  edition)  occurs  this  very 
professional  sneer,  u  A  doctor  and  the  Angel  of 
Death  both  kill,  but  the  former  charges  a  fee." 
Who  but  a  doctor  would  enter  into  a  scathing  de 
nunciation  of  the  current  system  of  diagnosis,  as 

12 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

Zabara  does  in  a  sarcastic  passage,  which  Erter 
may  have  imitated  unconsciously?  And  if  further 
proof  be  needed  that  Zabara  was  a  man  of  science, 
the  evidence  is  forthcoming;  for  Zabara  appeals 
several  times  to  experiment  in  proof  of  his  asser 
tions.  And  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  the 
author  informs  his  readers  in  so  many  words  of  his 
extensive  medical  practice  in  his  native  place. 

If  Zabara  be  the  author  of  the  other,  shorter 
poems  that  accompany  the  "  Book  of  Delight  "  in 
the  Constantinople  edition,  though  they  are  not 
incorporated  into  the  main  work,  we  have  a  further 
indication  that  Zabara  was  a  medical  man.  There 
is  a  satirical  introduction  against  the  doctors  that 
slay  a  man  before  his  time.  The  author,  with  mock 
timidity,  explains  that  he  withholds  his  name,  lest 
the  medical  profession  turn  its  attention  to  him  with 
fatal  results.  "  Never  send  for  a  doctor,"  says  the 
satirist,  "  for  one  cannot  expect  a  miracle  to  hap 
pen."  It  is  important,  for  our  understanding  of 
another  feature  in  Zabara's  work,  to  observe  that 
his  invective,  directed  against  the  practitioners 
rather  than  the  science  of  medicine,  is  not  more 
curious  as  coming  from  a  medical  man,  than  are  the 
attacks  on  women  perpetrated  by  some  Jewish  poets 
(Zabara  among  them),  who  themselves  amply  ex- 

13 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

perienced,  in  their  own  and  their  community's  life, 
the  tender  and  beautiful  relations  that  subsist 
between  Jewish  mother  and  son,  Jewish  wife  and 
husbanr1 

Th  life  of  Joseph  ben  Me'ir  Zabara  was  not 
happy.  He  left  Barcelona  in  search  of  learning 
and  comfort.  He  found  the  former,  but  the  latter 
eluded  him.  It  is  hard  to  say  from  the  "  Book  of 
Delight  "  whether  he  was  a  woman-hater,  or  not. 
On  the  one  hand,  he  says  many  pretty  things  about 
women.  The  moral  of  the  first  section  of  the 
romance  is:  Put  your  trust  in  women;  and  the 
moral  of  the  second  section  of  the  poem  is :  A  good 
woman  is  the  best  part  of  man.  But,  though  this 
is  so,  Zabara  does  undoubtedly  quote  a  large  num 
ber  of  stories  full  of  point  and  sting,  stories  that 
tell  of  women's  wickedness  and  infidelity,  of  their 
weakness  of  intellect  and  fickleness  of  will.  His 
philogynist  tags  hardly  compensate  for  his  misogy 
nist  satires.  He  runs  with  the  hare,  but  hunts  ener 
getically  with  the  hounds. 

It  is  this  characteristic  of  Zabara's  method  that 
makes  it  open  to  doubt,  whether  the  additional 
stories  referred  to  as  printed  with  the  Constanti 
nople  edition  did  really  emanate  from  our  author's 
pen.  These  additions  are  sharply  misogynist;  the 

14 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

poet  does  not  even  attempt  to  blunt  their  point. 
They  include  "  The  Widow's  Vow  "  (the  widow, 
protesting  undying  constancy  to  her  first  love,  eag 
erly  weds  another)  and  "  Woman's  Contentions." 
In  the  latter,  a  wicked  woman  is  denounced  .v1'^  the 
wildest  invective.  She  has  demoniac  traits;  her 
touch  is  fatal.  A  condemned  criminal  is  offered  his 
life  if  he  will  wed  a  wicked  woman.  "  O  King," 
he  cried,  "  slay  me;  for  rather  would  I  die  once, 
than  suffer  many  deaths  every  day."  Again,  once 
a  wicked  woman  pursued  a  heroic  man.  He  met 
some  devils.  "  What  are  you  running  from  ?  " 
asked  they.  "  From  a  wicked  woman, "he  answered. 
The  devils  turned  and  ran  away  with  him. 

One  rather  longer  story  n^  .y  be  summarized 
thus :  Satan,  disguised  in  hurr.an  shape,  met  a  fugi 
tive  husband,  who  had  left  his  wicked  wife.  Satan 
told  him  that  he  was  in  similar  case,  and  proposed 
a  compact.  Satan  would  enter  into  the  bodies  of 
men,  and  the  other,  pretending  to  be  a  skilful  phy 
sician,  would  exorcise  Satan.  They  would  share 
the  profits.  Satan  begins  on  the  king,  and  the 
queen  engages  the  confederate  to  cure  the  king 
within  three  days,  for  a  large  fee,  but  in  case  of 
failure  the  doctor  is  to  die.  Satan  refuses  to  come 
out :  his  real  plan  is  to  get  the  doctor  killed  in  this 

15 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

way.  The  doctor  obtains  a  respite,  and  collects  a 
large  body  of  musicians,  who  make  a  tremendous 
din.  Satan  trembles.  "  What  is  that  noise?  "  he 
asks.  "  Your  wife  is  coming,"  says  the  doctor. 
Out  sprang  Satan  and  fled  to  the  end  of  the  earth. 
These  tales  and  quips,  it  is  true,  are  directed 
against  "  wicked  "  women,  but  if  Zabara  really 
wrote  them,  it  would  be  difficult  to  acquit  him  of 
woman-hatred,  unless  the  stories  have  been  mis 
placed,  and  should  appear,  as  part  of  the  "  Book 
of  Delight,"  within  the  Leopard  section,  which 
rounds  off  a  series  of  unfriendly  tales  with  a  moral 
friendly  to  woman.  In  general,  Oriental  satire 
directed  against  women  must  not  be  taken  too  seri 
ously.  As  Gudemann  has  shown,  the  very  Jews 
that  wrote  most  bitterly  of  women  were  loud  in 
praise  of  their  own  wives — the  women  whom  alone 
they  knew  intimately.  Woman  was  the  standing 
butt  for  men  to  hurl  their  darts  at,  and  one  cannot 
help  feeling  that  a  good  deal  of  the  fun  got  its 
point  from  the  knowledge  that  the  charges  were 
exaggerated  or  untrue.  You  find  the  Jewish  satir 
ists  exhausting  all  their  stores  of  drollery  on  the 
subject  of  rollicking  drunkenness.  They  roar  till 
their  sides  creak  over  the  humor  of  the  wine-bibber. 
They  laugh  at  him  and  with  him.  They  turn  again 

16 


«  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

and  again  to  the  subject,  which  shares  the  empire 
with  women  in  the  Jewish  poets.  Yet  we  know 
well  enough  that  the  writers  of  these  Hebrew 
Anacreontic  lyrics  were  sober  men,  who  rarely  in 
dulged  in  overmuch  strong  drink.  In  short,  the 
medieval  Jewish  satirists  were  gifted  with  much  of 
what  a  little  time  ago  was  foolishly  styled  "  the 
new  humor."  Joseph  Zabara  was  a  "  new  "  hu 
morist.  Fie  has  the  quaint  subtlety  of  the  author 
of  the  "  Ingoldsby  Legends,"  and  revelled  in  the 
exaggeration  of  trifles  that  is  the  stock-in-trade  of 
the  modern  funny  man.  Woman  plays  the  part  with 
the  former  that  the  mother-in-law  played  a  genera 
tion  ago  with  the  latter.  In  Zabara,  again,  there  is 
a  good  deal  of  mere  rudeness,  which  the  author 
seems  to  mistake  for  cutting  repartee.  This,  I  take 
it,  is  another  characteristic  of  the  so-called  new 
humor. 

The  probable  explanation  of  the  marked  diver 
gence  between  Zabara's  stories  and  the  moral  he 
draws  from  them  lies,  however,  a  little  deeper. 
The  stories  themselves  are  probably  Indian  in  ori 
gin;  hence  they  are  marked  by  the  tone  hostile  to 
woman  so  characteristic  of  Indian  folk-lore.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  Zabara  himself  was  a  friendly 
critic  of  woman,  his  own  moralizings  in  her  favor 
2  17 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

are  explained.  This  theory  is  not  entirely  upset  by 
the  presence  even  of  the  additional  stories,  for 
these,  too,  are  translations,  and  Zabara  cannot  be 
held  responsible  for  their  contents.  The  selection 
of  good  anecdotes  was  restricted  in  his  day  within 
very  narrow  limits. 

Yet  Zabara's  reading  must  have  been  extensive. 
He  knew  something  of  astronomy,  philosophy,  the 
science  of  physiognomy,  music,  mathematics,  and 
physics,  and  a  good  deal  of  medicine.  He  was 
familiar  with  Arabian  collections-  of  proverbs  and 
tales,  for  he  informs  his  readers  several  times  that 
he  is  drawing  on  Arabic  sources.  He  knew  the 
"  Choice  of  Pearls,"  the  Midrashic  "  Stories  of 
King  Solomon,"  the  "  Maxims  of  the  Philoso 
phers,"  the  "  Proverbs  of  the  Wise";  but  not 
"  Sendabar  "  in  its  Hebrew  form.  His  acquain 
tance  with  the  language  of  the  Bible  was  thor 
ough  ;  but  he  makes  one  or  two  blunders  in  quoting 
the  substance  of  Scriptural  passages.  Though  he 
disclaimed  the  title  of  a  Talmudic  scholar,  he  was 
not  ignorant  of  the  Rabbinic  literature.  Everyone 
quotes  it:  the  fox,  the  woman,  Enan,  and  the  au 
thor.  He  was  sufficiently  at  home  in  this  litera 
ture  to  pun  therein.  He  also  knew  the  story  of 
Tobit,  but,  as  he  introduces  it  as  "  a  most  marvel- 

18 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

lous  tale,"  it  is  clear  that  this  book  of  the  Apoc 
rypha  was  not  widely  current  in  his  day.  The 
story,  as  Zabara  tells  it,  differs  considerably  from 
the  Apocryphal  version  of  it.  The  incidents  are 
misplaced,  the  story  of  the  betrothal  is  disconnected 
from  that  of  the  recovery  of  the  money  by  Tobit, 
and  the  detail  of  the  gallows  occurs  in  no  other 
known  text  of  the  story.  In  one  point,  Zabara's 
version  strikingly  agrees  with  the  Hebrew  and 
Chaldee  texts  of  Tobit  as  against  the  Greek; 
Tobit's  son  is  not  accompanied  by  a  dog  on  his 
journey  to  recover  his  father's  long-lost  treasure. 

One  of  the  tales  told  by  Zabara  seems  to  imply 
a  phenomenon  of  the  existence  of  which  there  is  no 
other  evidence.  There  seems  to  have  been  in  Spain 
a  small  class  of  Jews  that  were  secret  converts  to 
Christianity.  They  passed  openly  for  Jews,  but 
were  in  truth  Christians.  The  motive  for  the  con 
cealment  is  unexplained,  and  the  whole  passage  may 
be  merely  satirical. 

It  remains  for  me  to  describe  the  texts  now  ex 
tant  of  the  "Book  of  Delight."  In  1865  the 
"  Book  of  Delight "  appeared,  from  a  fifteenth 
century  manuscript  in  Paris,  in  the  second  volume  of 
a  Hebrew  periodical  called  the  Lebanon.  In  the 
following  year  the  late  Senior  Sachs  wrote  an  intro- 

19 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

duction  to  it  and  to  two  other  publications,  which 
were  afterwards  issued  together  under  the  title  Yen 
Lebanon  (Paris,  1866).  The  editor  was  aware  of 
the  existence  of  another  text,  but,  strange  to  tell,  he 
did  not  perceive  the  need  of  examining  it.  Had  he 
done  this,  his  edition  would  have  been  greatly  im 
proved.  For  the  Bodleian  Library  possesses  a 
copy  of  another  edition  of  the  "  Book  of  Delight/' 
undated,  and  without  place  of  issue,  but  printed 
in  Constantinople,  in  1577.  One  or  two  other 
copies  of  this  edition  are  extant  elsewhere.  The 
editor  was  Isaac  Akrish,  as  we  gather  from  a  mar 
ginal  note  to  the  version  of  Tobit  given  by  Joseph 
Zabara.  This  Isaac  Akrish  was  a  travelling  book 
seller,  who  printed  interesting  little  books,  and 
hawked  them  about.  Dr.  Steinschneider  points  out 
that  the  date  of  Isaac  Akrish's  edition  can  be  ap 
proximately  fixed  by  the  type.  The  type  is  that  of 
the  Jaabez  Press,  established  in  Constantinople  and 
Salonica  in  1560.  This  Constantinople  edition  is 
not  only  longer  than  the  Paris  edition,  it  is,  on  the 
whole,  more  accurate.  The  verbal  variations  be 
tween  the  two  editions  are  extremely  numerous,  but 
the  greater  accuracy  of  the  Constantinople  edition 
shows  itself  in  many  ways.  The  rhymes  are  much 
better  preserved,  though  the  Paris  edition  is  occa- 

20 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

sionally  superior  in  this  respect.  But  many  pas 
sages  that  are  quite  unintelligible  in  the  Paris  edi 
tion  are  clear  enough  in  the  Constantinople  edition. 

The  gigantic  visitor  of  Joseph,  the  narrator,  the 
latter  undoubtedly  the  author  himself,  is  a  strange 
being.  Like  the  guide  of  Gil  Bias  on  his  adventures, 
he  is  called  a  demon,  and  he  glares  and  emits  smoke 
and  fire.  But  he  proves  amenable  to  argument,  and 
quotes  the  story  of  the  washerwoman,  to  show  how 
it  was  that  he  became  a  reformed  character.  This 
devil  quotes  the  Rabbis,  and  is  easily  convinced  that 
it  is  unwise  for  him  to  wed  an  ignorant  bride.  It 
would  seem  as  though  Zabara  were,  on  the  one 
hand,  hurling  a  covert  attack  against  some  one  who 
had  advised  him  to  leave  Barcelona  to  his  own 
hurt,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  satirizing  the 
current  beliefs  of  Jews  and  Christians  in  evil  spirits. 
More  than  one  passage  is  decidedly  anti-Christian, 
and  it  would  not  be  surprising  to  find  that  the  frame 
work  of  the  romance  had  been  adopted  with  polemic 
intention. 

The  character  of  the  framework  becomes  more 
interesting  when  it  is  realized  that  Zabara  derived 
it  from  some  version  of  the  legends  of  which  King 
Solomon  is  the  hero.  The  king  had  various  adven 
tures  with  a  being  more  or  less  demoniac  in  charac- 

21 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

ter,  who  bears  several  names:  Asmodeus,  Saturn, 
Marcolf,  or  Morolf.  That  the  model  for  Zabara's 
visitor  was  Solomon's  interlocutor,  is  not  open  to 
doubt.  The  Solomon  legend  occurs  in  many  forms, 
but  in  all  Marcolf  (or  whatever  other  name  he 
bears)  is  a  keen  contester  with  the  king  in  a  battle 
of  wits.  No  doubt,  at  first  Marcolf  filled  a  serious, 
respectable  role ;  in  course  of  time,  his  character  de 
generated  into  that  of  a  clown  or  buffoon.  It  is 
difficult  to  summarize  the  legend,  it  varies  so  con 
siderably  in  the  versions.  Marcolf  in  the  best- 
known  forms,  which  are  certainly  older  than  Za- 
bara,  is  "  right  rude  and  great  of  body,  of  visage 
greatly  misshapen  and  foul."  Sometimes  he  is  a 
dwarf,  sometimes  a  giant;  he  is  never  normal.  He 
appears  with  his  counterpart,  a  sluttish  wife,  before 
Solomon,  who,  recognizing  him  as  famous  for  his 
wit  and  wisdom,  challenges  him  to  a  trial  of  wis 
dom,  promising  great  rewards  as  the  prize  of  vic 
tory.  The  two  exchange  a  series  of  questions  and 
answers,  which  may  be  compared  in  spirit,  though 
not  in  actual  content,  with  the  questions  and  an 
swers  to  be  found  in  Zabara.  Marcolf  succeeds  in 
thoroughly  tiring  out  the  king,  and  though  the 
courtiers  are  for  driving  Marcolf  off  with  scant 
courtesy,  the  king  interposes,  fulfils  his  promise, 

22 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

and  dismisses  his  adversary  with  gifts.  Marcolf 
leaves  the  court,  according  to  one  version,  with  the 
noble  remark,  Ubi  non  est  lex,  ibi  non  est  rex. 

This  does  not  exhaust  the  story,  however.  In 
another  part  of  the  legend,  to  which,  again,  Za- 
bara  offers  parallels,  Solomon,  being  out  hunting, 
comes  suddenly  on  Marcolf's  hut,  and,  calling 
upon  him,  receives  a  number  of  riddling  answers, 
which  completely  foil  him,  and  for  the  solution  of 
which  he  is  compelled  to  have  recourse  to  the  pro 
poser.  He  departs,  however,  in  good  humor,  de 
siring  Marcolf  to  come  to  court  the  next  day  and 
bring  a  pail  of  fresh  milk  and  curds  from  the  cow. 
Marcolf  fails,  and  the  king  condemns  him  to  sit  up 
all  night  in  his  company,  threatening  him  with 
death  in  the  morning,  should  he  fall  asleep.  This, 
of  course,  Marcolf  does  immediately,  and  he  snores 
aloud.  Solomon  asks,  "  Sleepest  thou?" — And 
Marcolf  replies,  "  No,  I  think."—"  What  thinkest 
thou?  " — u  That  there  are  as  many  vertebrae  in  the 
hare's  tail  as  in  his  backbone." — The  king,  assured 
that  he  has  now  entrapped  his  adversary,  replies: 
"  If  thou  provest  not  this,  thou  diest  in  the  morn 
ing!  "  Over  and  over  again  Marcolf  snores,  and 
is  awakened  by  Solomon,  but  he  is  always  think 
ing.  He  gives  various  answers  during  the  night: 

23 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

There  are  as  many  white  feathers  as  black  in  the 
magpie. — There  is  nothing  whiter  than  daylight, 
daylight  is  whiter  than  milk. — Nothing  can  be 
safely  entrusted  to  a  woman. — Nature  is  stronger 
than  education. 

Next  day  Marcolf  proves  all  his  statements. 
Thus,  he  places  a  pan  of  milk  in  a  dark  closet,  and 
suddenly  calls  the  king.  Solomon  steps  into  the 
milk,  splashes  himself,  and  nearly  falls.  "  Son  of 
perdition!  what  does  this  mean?  "  roars  the  mon 
arch.  "  May  it  please  Your  Majesty,"  says  Mar 
colf,  "  merely  to  show  you  that  milk  is  not  whiter 
than  daylight."  That  nature  is  stronger  than  edu 
cation,  Marcolf  proves  by  throwing  three  mice, 
one  after  the  other,  before  a  cat  trained  to  hold  a 
lighted  candle  in  its  paws  during  the  king's  sup 
per;  the  cat  drops  the  taper,  and  chases  the  mice. 
Marcolf  further  enters  into  a  bitter  abuse  of 
womankind,  and  ends  by  inducing  Solomon  him 
self  to  join  in  the  diatribe.  When  the  king  per 
ceives  the  trick,  he  turns  Marcolf  out  of  court,  and 
eventually  orders  him  to  be  hanged.  One  favor  is 
granted  to  him :  he  may  select  his  own  tree.  Mar 
colf  and  his  guards  traverse  the  valley  of  Jehosha- 
phat,  pass  to  Jericho  over  Jordan,  through  Arabia 
and  the  Red  Sea,  but  u  never  more  could  Marcolf 

24 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

find  a  tree  that  he  would  choose  to  hang  on."  By 
this  device,  Marcolf  escapes  from  Solomon's  hands, 
returns  home,  and  passes  the  rest  of  his  days  in 
peace. 

The  legend,  no  doubt  Oriental  in  origin,  enjoyed 
popularity  in  the  Middle  Ages  largely  because  it 
became  the  frame  into  which  could  be  placed  col 
lections  of  proverbial  lore.  Hence,  as  happened 
also  with  the  legend  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba  and  her 
riddles,  the  versions  vary  considerably  as  to  the 
actual  content  of  the  questions  and  answers  ban 
died  between  Solomon  and  Marcolf.  In  the  Ger 
man  and  English  versions,  the  proverbs  and 
wisdom  are  largely  Teutonic;  in  Zabara  they  are 
Oriental,  and,  in  particular,  Arabic.  Again,  Mar 
colf  in  the  French  version  of  Mauclerc  is  much 
more  completely  the  reviler  of  woman.  Mauclerc 
wrote  almost  contemporaneously  with  Zabara 
(about  1216-1220,  according  to  Kemble).  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  Mauclerc  has  no  story,  and  his 
Marcolf  is  a  punning  clown  rather  than  a  cunning 
sage.  Marcolf,  who  is  Solomon's  brother  in  a 
German  version,  has  no  trust  in  a  woman  even 
when  dead.  So,  in  another  version,  Marcolf  is  at 
once  supernaturally  cunning,  and  extremely  skepti 
cal  as  to  the  morality  and  constancy  of  woman.  But 

25 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

it  is  unnecessary  to  enter  into  the  problem  more 
closely.  Suffice  it  to  have  established  that  in  Za 
bara's  "  Book  of  Delight  "  we  have  a  hitherto  un 
suspected  adaptation  of  the  Solomon-Marcolf 
legend.  Zabara  handles  the  legend  with  rare  origi 
nality,  and  even  ventures  to  cast  himself  for  the 
title  role  in  place  of  the  wisest  of  kings. 

In  the  summary  of  the  book  which  follows,  the 
rhymed  prose  of  the  original  Hebrew  is  reproduced 
only  in  one  case.  This  form  of  poetry  is  unsuited 
to  the  English  language.  What  may  have  a  strik 
ingly  pleasing  effect  in  Oriental  speech,  becomes, 
in  English,  indistinguishable  from  doggerel.  I 
have  not  translated  at  full  length,  but  I  have  endeav 
ored  to  render  Zabara  accurately,  without  intro 
ducing  thoughts  foreign  to  him. 

I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  give  elaborate 
parallels  to  Zabara's  stories,  nor  to  compare  mi 
nutely  the  various  details  of  the  Marcolf  legend 
with  Zabara's  poem.  On  the  whole,  it  may  be  said 
that  the  parallel  is  general  rather  than  specific.  I 
am  greatly  mistaken,  however,  if  the  collection  of 
stories  that  follows  does  not  prove  of  considerable 
interest  to  those  engaged  in  the  tracking  of  fables 
to  their  native  lairs.  Here,  in  Zabara,  we  have  an 
earlier  instance  than  was  previously  known  in  Eu- 

26 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

rope,  of  an  intertwined  series  of  fables  and  witti 
cisms,  partly  Indian,  partly  Greek,  partly  Semitic,  in 
origin,  welded  together  by  the  Hebrew  poet  by 
means  of  a  framework.  The  use  of  the  framework 
by  a  writer  in  Europe  in  the  year  1 200  is  itself  note 
worthy.  And  when  it  is  remembered  what  the 
framework  is,  it  becomes  obvious  that  the  "  Book  of 
Delight  "  occupies  a  unique  position  in  medieval 
literature. 

THE   GIANT  GUEST 

Once  on  a  night,  I,  Joseph,  lay  upon  my  bed;  sleep  was  sweet 
upon  me,  my  one  return  for  all  my  toil.  Things  there  are  which 
weary  the  soul  and  rest  the  body,  others  that  weary  the  body 
and  rest  the  soul,  but  sleep  brings  calm  to  the  body  and  the 
soul  at  once.  .  .  .  While  I  slept,  I  dreamt;  and  a  gigantic  but 
manlike  figure  appeared  before  me,  rousing  me  from  my  slumber. 
"Arise,  thou  sleeper,  rouse  thyself  and  see  the  wine  while  it  is 
red;  come,  sit  thee  down  and  eat  of  what  I  provide."  It  was 
dawn  when  I  hastily  rose,  and  I  saw  before  me  wine,  bread,  and 
viands;  and  in  the  man's  hand  was  a  lighted  lamp,  which  cast 
a  glare  into  every  corner.  I  said,  "  What  are  these,  my  master?  " 
"  My  wine,  my  bread,  my  viands ;  come,  eat  and  drink  with  me, 
for  I  love  thee  as  one  of  my  mother's  sons."  And  I  thanked  him, 
but  protested:  "I  cannot  eat  or  drink  till  I  have  prayed  to  the 
Orderer  of  all  my  ways ;  for  Moses,  the  choice  of  the  prophets, 
and  the  head  of  those  called,  hath  ordained,  '  Eat  not  with  the 
blood ' ;  therefore  no  son  of  Israel  will  eat  until  he  prays  for  his 

soul,  for  the  blood  is  the  soul " 

27 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

Then  said  he,  "  Pray,  if  such  be  thy  wish  " ;  and  I  bathed  my 
hands  and  face,  and  prayed.  Then  I  ate  of  all  that  was  before 

me,  for  my  soul  loved  him Wine  I  would  not  drink, 

though  he  pressed  me  sore.  "  Wine,"  I  said,  "  blindeth  the  eyes, 
robbeth  the  old  of  wisdom  and  the  body  of  strength,  it  revealeth 
the  secrets  of  friends,  and  raiseth  dissension  between  brothers." 
The  man's  anger  was  roused.  "Why  blasphemest  thou  against 
wine,  and  bearest  false  witness  against  it?  Wine  bringeth  joy; 
sorrow  and  sighing  fly  before  it.  It  strengthened  the  body, 
maketh  the  heart  generous,  prolongeth  pleasure,  and  deferreth 
age;  faces  it  maketh  shine,  and  the  senses  it  maketh  bright." 

"  Agreed,  but  let  thy  servant  take  the  water  first,  as  the  ancient 
physicians  advise;  later  I  will  take  the  wine,  a  little,  without 
water." 

When  I  had  eaten  and  drunk  with  him,  I  asked  for  his  name 
and  his  purpose.  "  I  come,"  said  he,  "  from  a  distant  land,  from 
pleasant  and  fruitful  hills,  my  wisdom  is  as  thine,  my  laws  as 
thine,  my  name  Enan  Hanatash,  the  son  of  Arnan  ha-Desh."  I 
was  amazed  at  the  name,  unlike  any  I  had  ever  heard.  "  Come 
with  me  from  this  land,  and  I  will  tell  thee  all  my  secret  lore; 
leave  this  spot,  for  they  know  not  here  thy  worth  and  thy  wis 
dom.  I  will  take  thee  to  another  place,  pleasant  as  a  garden, 
peopled  by  loving  men,  wise  above  all  others."  But  I  answered: 
"My  lord,  I  cannot  go.  Here  are  many  wise  and  friendly; 
while  I  live,  they  bear  me  on  the  wing  of  their  love;  when  I 

die,  they  will  make  my  death  sweet I  fear  thee  for  thy 

long  limbs,  and  in  thy  face  I  see,  clear-cut,  the  marks  of  un- 
worthiness;  I  fear  thee,  and  I  will  not  be  thy  companion,  lest 
there  befall  me  what  befell  the  leopard  with  the  fox."  And  I 
told  him  the  story. 

28 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

In  this  manner,  illustrative  tales  are  introduced 
throughout  the  poem.  Zabara  displays  rare  inge 
nuity  in  fitting  the  illustrations  into  his  framework. 
He  proceeds : 

THE  FOX  AND  THE  LEOPARD 

A  leopard  once  lived  in  content  and  plenty;  ever  he  found 
easy  sustenance  for  his  wife  and  children.  Hard  by  there  dwelt 
his  neighbor  and  friend,  the  fox.  The  fox  felt  in  his  heart  that 
his  life  was  safe  only  so  long  as  the  leopard  could  catch  other 
prey,  and  he  planned  out  a  method  for  ridding  himself  of  this 
dangerous  friendship.  Before  the  evil  cometh,  say  the  wise, 
counsel  is  good.  "  Let  me  move  him  hence,"  thought  the  fox ; 
"  I  will  lead  him  to  the  paths  of  death ;  for  the  sages  say,  '  If 
one  come  to  slay  thee,  be  beforehand  with  him,  and  slay  him 
instead.'"  Next  day  the  fox  went  to  the  leopard,  and  told  him 
of  a  spot  he  had  seen,  a  spot  of  gardens  and  lilies,  where  fawns 
and  does  disported  themselves,  and  everything  was  fair.  The 
leopard  went  with  him  to  behold  this  paradise,  and  rejoiced 
with  exceeding  joy.  "  Ah,"  thought  the  fox,  "  many  a  smile  ends 
in  a  tear."  But  the  leopard  was  charmed,  and  wished  to  move 
to  this  delightful  abode ;  "  but,  first,"  said  he,  "  I  will  go  to 
consult  my  wife,  my  lifelong  comrade,  the  bride  of  my  youth." 
The  fox  was  sadly  disconcerted.  Full  well  he  knew  the  wisdom 
and  the  craft  of  the  leopard's  wife.  "  Nay,"  said  he,  "  trust  not 
thy  wife.  A  woman's  counsel  is  evil  and  foolish,  her  heart  hard 
like  marble;  she  is  a  plague  in  a  house.  Yes,  ask  her  advice, 
and  do  the  opposite."  ....  The  leopard  told  his  wife  that  he 
was  resolved  to  go.  "  Beware  of  the  fox,"  she  exclaimed ;  "  two 
small  animals  there  are,  the  craftiest  they,  by  far — the  serpent 

29 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

and  the  fox.  Hast  thou  not  heard  how  the  fox  bound  the  lion 
and  slew  him  with  cunning?"  "How  did  the  fox  dare,"  asked 
the  leopard,  "  to  come  near  enough  to  the  lion  to  do  it?  " 

The  wife  than  takes  up  the  parable,  and  cites  the 
incident  of 

THE  FOX  AND  THE  LION 

Then  said  the  leopard's  wife:  The  lion  loved  the  fox,  but 
the  fox  had  no  faith  in  him,  and  plotted  his  death.  One  day 
the  fox  went  to  the  lion  whining  that  a  pain  had  seized  him  in 
the  head.  "  I  have  heard,"  said  the  fox,  "  that  physicians  pre 
scribe  for  a  headache,  that  the  patient  shall  be  tied  up  hand  and 
foot."  The  lion  assented,  and  bound  up  the  fox  with  a  cord. 
"  Ah,"  blithely  said  the  fox,  "  my  pain  is  gone."  Then  the 
lion  loosed  him.  Time  passed,  and  the  lion's  turn  came  to  suffer 
in  his  head.  In  sore  distress  he  went  to  the  fox,  fast  as  a 
bird  to  the  snare,  and  exclaimed,  "  Bind  me  up,  brother,  that 
I,  too,  may  be  healed,  as  happened  with  thee."  The  fox  took 
fresh  withes,  and  bound  the  lion  up.  Then  he  went  to  fetch 
great  stones,  which  he  cast  on  the  lion's  head,  and  thus  crushed 
him.  "  Therefore,  my  dear  leopard,"  concluded  his  wife,  "  trust 
not  the  fox,  for  I  fear  him  and  his  wiles.  If  the  place  he  tells 
of  be  so  fair,  why  does  not  the  fox  take  it  for  himself?"  "  Nay," 
said  the  leopard,  "  thou  art  a  silly  prattler.  I  have  often  proved 
my  friend,  and  there  is  no  dross  in  the  silver  of  his  love." 

The  leopard  would  not  hearken  to  his  wife's  ad 
vice,  yet  he  was  somewhat  moved  by  her  warning, 
and  he  told  the  fox  of  his  misgiving,  adding,  that 
his  wife  refused  to  accompany  him.  "  Ah,"  re- 

30 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

plied  the  fox,  "  I  fear  your  fate  will  be  like  the 
silversmith's ;  let  me  tell  you  his  story,  and  you  will 
know  how  silly  it  is  to  listen  to  a  wife's  counsel." 

THE   SILVERSMITH   WHO   FOLLOWED   HIS   WIFE'S 
COUNSEL 

A  silversmith  of  Babylon,  skilful  in  his  craft,  was  one  day 
at  work.  "  Listen  to  me,"  said  his  wife,  "  and  I  will  make  thee 
rich  and  honored.  Our  lord,  the  king,  has  an  only  daughter, 
and  he  loves  her  as  his  life.  Fashion  for  her  a  silver  image  of 
herself,  and  I  will  bear  it  to  her  as  a  gift."  The  statue  was 
soon  made,  and  the  princess  rejoiced  at  seeing  it.  She  gave  a 
cloak  and  earrings  to  the  artist's  wife,  and  she  showed  them  to 
her  husband  in  triumph.  "  But  where  is  the  wealth  and  the 
honor?"  he  asked.  "The  statue  was  worth  much  more  than 
thou  hast  brought."  Next  day  the  king  saw  the  statue  in  his 
daughter's  hand,  and  his  anger  was  kindled.  "  Is  it  not  ordered," 
he  cried,  "that  none  should  make  an  image?  Cut  off  his  right 
hand."  The  king's  command  was  carried  out,  and  daily  the 
smith  wept,  and  exclaimed,  "  Take  warning  from  me,  ye  hus 
bands,  and  obey  not  the  voice  of  your  wives." 

The  leopard  shuddered  when  he  heard  this  tale; 
but  the  fox  went  on : 

THE  WOODCUTTER  AND  THE  WOMAN 

A   hewer   of   wood    in    Damascus   was   cutting    logs,    and    his 

wife    sat    spinning    by    his    side.      "  My    departed    father,"    she 

said,   "  was  a  better  workman  than  thou.     He  could  chop  with 

both  hands:  when  the  right  hand  was  tired,  he  used  the  left." 

31 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

"  Nay,"  said  he,  "  no  woodcutter  does  that,  he  uses  his  right 
hand,  unless  he  be  a  left-handed  man."  "  Ah,  my  dear,"  she 
entreated,  "  try  and  do  it  as  my  father  did."  The  witless  wight 
raised  his  left  hand  to  hew  the  wood,  but  struck  his  right-hand 
thumb  instead.  Without  a  word  he  took  the  axe  and  smote 
her  on  the  head,  and  she  died.  His  deed  was  noised  about;  the 
woodcutter  was  seized  and  stoned  for  his  crime.  Therefore, 
continued  the  fox,  I  say  unto  thee,  all  women  are  deceivers 
and  trappers  of  souls.  And  let  me  tell  you  more  of  these  wily 
stratagems. 

The  fox  reinforces  his  argument  by  relating  an 
episode  in  which  a  contrast  is  drawn  between 

MAN'S  LOVE  AND  WOMAN'S 

A  king  of  the  Arabs,  wise  and  well-advised,  was  one  day 
seated  with  his  counsellors,  who  were  loud  in  the  praise  of 
women,  lauding  their  virtues  and  their  wisdom.  "  Cut  short 
these  words,"  said  the  king.  "  Never  since  the  world  began  has 
there  been  a  good  woman.  They  love  for  their  own  ends." 
"  But,"  pleaded  his  sages,  "  O  King,  thou  art  hasty.  Women  there 
are,  wise  and  faithful  and  spotless,  who  love  their  husbands  and 
tend  their  children."  "Then,"  said  the  king,  "here  is  my  city 
before  you:  search  it  through,  and  find  one  of  the  good  women 
of  whom  you  speak."  They  sought,  and  they  found  a  woman, 
chaste  and  wise,  fair  as  the  moon  and  bright  as  the  sun,  the 
wife  of  a  wealthy  trader;  and  the  counsellors  reported  about  her 
to  the  king.  He  sent  for  her  husband,  and  received  him  with 
favor.  "  I  have  something  for  thy  ear,"  said  the  king.  "  I  have 
a  good  and  desirable  daughter:  she  is  my  only  child;  I  will 
not  give  her  to  a  king  or  a  prince:  let  me  find  a  simple,  faithful 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

man,  who  will  love  her  and  hold  her  in  esteem.  Thou  art  such 
a  one ;  thou  shalt  have  her.  But  thou  art  married :  slay  thy 
wife  to-night,  and  to-morrow  thou  shalt  wed  my  daughter." 
"  I  am  unworthy,"  pleaded  the  man,  "  to  be  the  shepherd  of  thy 
flock,  much  less  the  husband  of  thy  daughter."  But  the  king 
would  take  no  denial.  "But  how  shall  I  kill  my  wife?  For 
fifteen  years  she  has  eaten  of  my  bread  and  drunk  of  my  cup. 
She  is  the  joy  of  my  heart;  her  love  and  esteem  grow  day  by 
day."  "  Slay  her,"  said  the  king,  "  and  be  king  hereafter."  He 
went  forth  from  the  presence,  downcast  and  sad,  thinking  over, 
and  a  little  shaken  by,  the  king's  temptation.  At  home  he  saw 
his  wife  and  his  two  babes.  "  Better,"  he  cried,  "  is  my  wife 
than  a  kingdom.  Cursed  be  all  kings  who  tempt  men  to  sip 
sorrow,  calling  it  joy."  The  king  waited  his  coming  in  vain ; 
and  then  he  sent  messengers  to  the  man's  shop.  When  he  found 
that  the  man's  love  had  conquered  his  lust,  he  said,  with  a  sneer, 
"Thou  art  no  man:  thy  heart  is  a  woman's." 

In  the  evening  the  king  summoned  the  woman  secretly.  She 
came,  and  the  king  praised  her  beauty  and  her  wisdom.  His 
heart,  he  said,  was  burning  with  love  for  her,  but  he  could  not 
wed  another  man's  wife.  "  Slay  thy  husband  to-night,  and  to 
morrow  be  my  queen."  With  a  smile,  the  woman  consented ; 
and  the  king  gave  her  a  sword  made  of  tin,  for  he  knew  the 
weak  mind  of  woman.  "  Strike  once,"  he  said  to  her ;  "  the 
sword  is  sharp;  you  need  not  essay  a  second  blow."  She  gave 
her  husband  a  choice  repast,  and  wine  to  make  him  drunken.  As 
he  lay  asleep,  she  grasped  the  sword  and  struck  him  on  the 
head;  and  the  tin  bent,  and  he  awoke.  With  some  ado  she 
quieted  him,  and  he  fell  asleep  again.  Next  morning  the  king 
summoned  her,  and  asked  whether  she  had  obeyed  his  orders. 
3  33 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  "  but  thou  didst  frustrate  thine  own  counsel." 
Then  the  king  assembled  his  sages,  and  bade  her  tell  all  that 
she  had  attempted;  and  the  husband,  too,  was  fetched,  to  tell 
his  story.  "  Did  I  not  tell  you  to  cease  your  praises  of  women?  " 
asked  the  king,  triumphantly. 

IN  DISPRAISE  OF  WOMAN 

The  fox  follows  up  these  effective  narratives 
with  a  lengthy  string  of  well-worn  quotations 
against  women,  of  which  the  following  are  a  few: 
Socrates,  the  wise  and  saintly,  hated  and  despised 
them.  His  wife  was  thin  and  short.  They  asked 
him,  "  How  could  a  man  like  you  choose  such  a 
woman  for  your  wife  ?  "  "I  chose,"  said  Socrates, 
"  of  the  evil  the  least  possible  amount."  "  Why, 
then,  do  you  look  on  beautiful  women?  "  "  Nei 
ther,"  said  Socrates,  "  from  love  nor  from  desire, 
but  to  admire  the  handiwork  of  God  in  their  out 
ward  form.  It  is  within  that  they  are  foul."  Once 
he  was  walking  by  the  way,  and  he  saw  a  woman 
hanging  from  a  fig-tree.  "  Would,"  said  Socrates, 
"  that  all  the  fruit  were  like  this." — A  nobleman 
built  a  new  house,  and  wrote  over  the  door,  "  Let 
nothing  evil  pass  this  way."  "  Then  how  does  his 
wife  go  in?"  asked  Diogenes. — "Your  enemy  is 
dead,"  said  one  to  another.  "  I  would  rather  hear 
that  he  had  got  married,"  was  the  reply. 

34 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

"  So  much,"  said  the  fox  to  the  leopard,  "  I 
have  told  thee  that  thou  mayest  know  how  little 
women  are  to  be  trusted.  They  deceive  men  in 
life,  and  betray  them  in  death."  "  But,"  queried 
the  leopard,  "  what  could  my  wife  do  to  harm  me 
after  I  am  dead?  "  "  Listen,"  rejoined  the  fox, 
"  and  I  will  tell  thee  of  a  deed  viler  than  any  I 
have  narrated  hitherto." 

THE  WIDOW  AND  HER  HUSBAND'S  CORPSE 
The  kings  of  Rome,  when  they  hanged  a  man,  denied  him 
burial  until  the  tenth  day.  That  the  friends  and  relatives  of  the 
victim  might  not  steal  the  body,  an  officer  of  high  rank  was  set 
to  watch  the  tree  by  night.  If  the  body  was  stolen,  the  officer 
was  hung  up  in  its  place.  A  knight  of  high  degree  once  rebelled 
against  the  king,  and  he  was  hanged  on  a  tree.  The  officer  on 
guard  was  startled  at  midnight  to  hear  a  piercing  shriek  of 
anguish  from  a  little  distance;  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode 
towards  the  voice,  to  discover  the  meaning.  He  came  to  an 
open  grave,  where  the  common  people  were  buried,  and  saw  a 
weeping  woman  loud  in  laments  for  her  departed  spouse.  He 
sent  her  home  with  words  of  comfort,  accompanying  her  to  the 
city  gate.  He  then  returned  to  his  post.  Next  night  the  same 
scene  was  repeated,  and  as  the  officer  spoke  his  gentle  soothings 
to  her,  a  love  for  him  was  born  in  her  heart,  and  her  dead 
husband  was  forgotten.  And  as  they  spoke  words  of  love,  they 
neared  the  tree,  and  lo !  the  body  that  the  officer  was  set  to 
watch  was  gone.  "  Begone,"  he  said,  "  and  I  will  fly,  or  my  life 
must  pay  the  penalty  of  my  dalliance."  "Fear  not,  my  lord," 

85 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

she  said,  "  we  can  raise  my  husband  from  his  grave  and  hang 
him  instead  of  the  stolen  corpse."  "  But  I  fear  the  Prince  of 
Death.  I  cannot  drag  a  man  from  his  grave."  "  I  alone  will 
do  it  then,"  said  the  woman;  "I  will  dig  him  out;  it  is  lawful 
to  cast  a  dead  man  from  the  grave,  to  keep  a  live  man  from 
being  thrown  in."  "  Alas !  "  cried  t-he  officer,  when  she  had 
done  the  fearsome  deed,  "  the  corpse  I  watched  was  bald,  your 
husband  has  thick  hair;  the  change  will  be  detected."  "Nay," 
said  the  woman,  "  I  will  make  him  bald,"  and  she  tore  his  hair 
out,  with  execrations,  and  they  hung  him  on  the  tree.  But  a 
few  days  passed  and  the  pair  were  married. 

And  now  the  leopard  interlude  nears  it  close. 
Zabara  narrates  the  denouement  in  these  terms: 

THE  LEOPARD'S  FATE 

The  leopard's  bones  rattled  while  he  listened  to  this  tale. 
Angrily  he  addressed  his  wife,  "  Come,  get  up  and  follow  me, 
or  I  will  slay  thee."  Together  they  went  with  their  young  ones, 
and  the  fox  was  their  guide,  and  they  reached  the  promised  place, 
and  encamped  by  the  waters.  The  fox  bade  them  farewell,  his 
head  laughing  at  his  tail.  Seven  days  were  gone,  when  the 
rains  descended,  and  in  the  deep  of  the  night  the  river  rose 
and  engulfed  the  leopard  family  in  their  beds.  "Woe  is  me," 
sighed  the  leopard,  "  that  I  did  not  listen  to  my  wife."  And 
he  died  before  his  time. 

THE  JOURNEY  BEGUN  BY  JOSEPH  AND  ENAN 

The  author  has  now  finished  his  protest  against 
his  visitor's  design,  to  make  him  join  him  on  a  rov- 

36 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

ing  expedition.  Enan  glares,  and  asks,  "  Am  I  a 
fox,  and  thou  a  leopard,  that  I  should  fear  thee?  " 
Then  his  note  changes,  and  his  tone  becomes  coax 
ing  and  bland.  Joseph  cannot  resist  his  fascina 
tion.  Together  they  start,  riding  on  their  asses. 
Then  says  Enan  unto  Joseph,  "  Carry  thou  me,  or 
I  will  carry  thee."  "  But,"  continues  the  narra 
tor,  Joseph,  "  we  were  both  riding  on  our  asses. 
*  What  dost  thou  mean?  Our  asses  carry  us 
both.  Explain  thy  words.' — '  It  is  the  story  of 
the  peasant  with  the  king's  officer.'  ' 

THE  CLEVER  GIRL  AND  THE  KING'S   DREAM 

A  king  with  many  wives  dreamt  that  he  saw  a  monkey  among 
them;  his  face  fell,  and  his  spirit  was  troubled.  "This  is  none 
other,"  said  he,  "than  a  foreign  king,  who  will  invade  my 
realm,  and  take  my  harem  for  his  spoil."  One  of  his  officers 
told  the  king  of  a  clever  interpreter  of  dreams,  and  the  king 
despatched  him  to  find  out  the  meaning  of  his  ominous  vision. 
He  set  forth  on  his  mule,  and  met  a  countryman  riding.  "  Carry 
me,"  said  the  officer,  "  or  I  will  carry  thee."  The  peasant  was 
amazed.  "  But  our  asses  carry  us  both,"  he  said.  "  Thou  tiller 
of  the  earth,"  said  the  officer,  "  thou  art  earth,  and  eatest  earth. 
There  is  snow  on  the  hill,"  continued  the  officer,  and  as  the  month 
was  Tammuz,  the  peasant  laughed.  They  passed  a  road  with 
wheat  growing  on  each  side.  "A  horse  blind  in  one  eye  has 
passed  here,"  said  the  officer,  "  loaded  with  oil  on  one  side,  and 
with  vinegar  on  the  other."  They  saw  a  field  richly  covered 

37 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

with  abounding  corn,  and  the  peasant  praised  it.  "  Yes,"  said 
the  officer,  "  if  the  corn  is  not  already  eaten."  They  went  on 
a  little  further  and  saw  a  lofty  tower.  "  Well  fortified,"  re 
marked  the  peasant.  "  Fortified  without,  if  not  ruined  within," 
replied  the  officer.  A  funeral  passed  them.  "  As  to  this  old 
man  whom  they  are  burying,"  said  the  officer,  "  I  cannot  tell 
whether  he  is  alive  or  dead."  And  the  peasant  thought  his 
companion  mad  to  make  such  unintelligible  remarks.  They 
neared  a  village  where  the  peasant  lived,  and  he  invited  the 
officer  to  stay  with  him  overnight. 

The  peasant,  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  told  his  wife  and  daugh 
ters  of  the  foolish  things  the  officer  had  said,  though  he  looked 
quite  wise.  "  Nay,"  said  the  peasant's  youngest  daughter,  a 
maiden  of  fifteen  years,  "the  man  is  no  fool;  thou  didst  not 
comprehend  the  depth  of  his  meaning.  The  tiller  of  the  earth 
eats  food  grown  from  the  earth.  By  the  '  snow  on  the  hill '  is 
meant  thy  white  beard  (on  thy  head)  ;  thou  shouldst  have 
answered,  '  Time  caused  it.'  The  horse  blind  in  one  eye  he 
knew  had -passed,  because  he  saw  that  the  wheat  was  eaten  on 
one  side  of  the  way,  and  not  on  the  other;  and  as  for  its  burden, 
he  saw  that  the  vinegar  had  parched  the  dust,  while  the  oil  had 
not.  His  saying,  '  Carry  me,  or  I  will  carry  thee,'  signifies  that 
he  who  beguiles  the  way  with  stories  and  proverbs  and  riddles, 
carries  his  companion,  relieving  him  from  the  tedium  of  the 
journey.  The  corn  of  the  field  you  passed,"  continued  the  girl, 
"  was  already  eaten  if  the  owner  was  poor,  and  had  sold  it  before 
it  was  reaped.  The  lofty  and  stately  tower  was  in  ruins  within, 
if  it  was  without  necessary  stores.  About  the  funeral,  too,  his 
remark  was  true.  If  the  old  man  left  a  son,  he  was  still  alive; 
if  he  was  childless,  he  was,  indeed,  dead." 

38 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

In  the  morning,  the  girl  asked  her  father  to  give  the  officer 
the  food  she  would  prepare.  She  gave  him  thirty  eggs,  a  dish 
full  of  milk,  and  a  whole  loaf.  "  Tell  me,"  said  she,  "  how 
many  days  old  the  month  is;  is  the  moon  new,  and  the  sun  at 
its  zenith?"  Her  father  ate  two  eggs,  a  little  of  the  loaf,  and 
sipped  some  of  the  milk,  and  gave  the  rest  to  the  officer.  "  Tell 
thy  daughter,"  he  said,  "  the  sun  is  not  full,  neither  is  the  moon, 
for  the  month  is  two  days  old."  "  Ah,"  laughed  the  peasant,  as 
he  told  his  daughter  the  answers  of  the  officer,  "  ah,  my  girl, 
I  told  you  he  was  a  fool,  for  we  are  now  in  the  middle  of 
the  month."  "  Did  you  eat  anything  of  what  I  gave  you  ? " 
asked  the  girl  of  her  father.  And  he  told  her  of  the  two  eggs, 
the  morsel  of  bread,  and  the  sip  of  milk  that  he  had  taken. 
"  Now  I  know,"  said  the  girl,  "  of  a  surety  that  the  man  is  very 
wise."  And  the  officer,  too,  felt  that  she  was  wise,  and  so  he 
told  her  the  king's  dream.  She  went  back  with  him  to  the  king, 
for  she  told  the  officer  that  she  could  interpret  the  vision,  but 
would  do  so  only  to  the  king  in  person,  not  through  a  deputy. 
"  Search  thy  harem,"  said  the  girl,  "  and  thou  wilt  find  among 
thy  women  a  man  disguised  in  female  garb."  He  searched,  and 
found  that  her  words  were  true.  The  man  was  slain,  and  the 
women,  too,  and  the  peasant's  daughter  became  the  king's  sole 
queen,  for  he  never  took  another  wife  besides  her. 

THE  NIGHT'S  REST 

Thus  Joseph  and  the  giant  Enan  journey  on,  and 
they  stay  overnight  in  a  village  inn.  Then  com 
mences  a  series  of  semi-medical  wrangles,  which 
fill  up  a  large  portion  of  the  book.  Joseph  de- 

39 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

mands  food  and  wine,  and  Enan  gives  him  a  little 
of  the  former  and  none  of  the  latter.  "  Be  still," 
says  Enan,  "  too  much  food  is  injurious  to  a  trav 
eller  weary  from  the  way.  But  you  cannot  be  so 
very  hungry,  or  you  would  fall  to  on  the  dry  bread. 
But  wine  with  its  exciting  qualities  is  bad  for  one 
heated  by  a  long  day's  ride."  Even  their  asses  are 
starved,  and  Joseph  remarks  sarcastically,  "  To 
morrow  it  will  be,  indeed,  a  case  of  carry-thou-me- 
or-I-thee,  for  our  asses  will  not  be  able  to  bear  us." 
They  sleep  on  the  ground,  without  couch  or  cover. 
At  dawn  Enan  rouses  him,  and  when  he  sees  that 
his  ass  is  still  alive,  he  exclaims,  "  Man  and  beast 
thou  savest,  O  Lord !  "  The  ass,  by  the  way,  is  a 
lineal  descendant  of  Balaam's  animal. 

They  proceed,  and  the  asses  nod  and  bow  as 
though  they  knew  how  to  pray.  Enan  weeps  as 
they  near  a  town.  "  Here,"  says  he,  "  my  dear 
friend  died,  a  man  of  wisdom  and  judgment.  I 
will  tell  thee  a  little  of  his  cleverness." 

THE  DISHONEST  SINGER  AND  THE  WEDDING  ROBES 
A  man  once  came  to  him  crying  in  distress.  His  only  daughter 
was  betrothed  to  a  youth,  and  the  bridegroom  and  his  father 
came  to  the  bride's  house  on  the  eve  of  the  wedding,  to  view 
her  ornaments  and  beautiful  clothes.  When  the  bride's  parents 
rose  next  day,  everything  had  vanished,  jewels  and  trousseau 

40 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

together.  They  were  in  despair,  for  they  had  lavished  all  their 
possessions  on  their  daughter.  My  friend  [continued  Enan]  went 
back  with  the  man  to  examine  the  scene  of  the  robbery.  The 
walls  of  the  house  were  too  high  to  scale.  He  found  but  one 
place  where  entry  was  possible,  a  crevice  in  a  wall  in  which 
an  orange  tree  grew,  and  its  edge  was  covered  with  thorns  and 
prickles.  Next  door  lived  a  musician,  Paltiel  ben  Agan  [or  Adan] 
by  name,  and  my  late  friend,  the  judge,  interviewed  him,  and 
made  him  strip.  His  body  was  covered  with  cuts  and  scratches; 
his  guilt  was  discovered,  and  the  dowry  returned  to  the  last  shoe- 
latchet.  "  My  son,"  said  he,  "  beware  of  singers,  for  they  are 
mostly  thieves;  trust  no  word  of  theirs,  for  they  are  liars;  they 
dally  with  women,  and  long  after  other  people's  money.  They 
fancy  they  are  clever,  but  they  know  not  their  left  hand  from 
their  right;  they  raise  their  hands  all  day  and  call,  but  know 
not  to  whom.  A  singer  stands  at  his  post,  raised  above  all  other 
men,  and  he  thinks  he  is  as  lofty  as  his  place.  He  constantly 
emits  sounds,  which  mount  to  his  brain,  and  dry  it  up ;  hence 
he  is  so  witless." 

Then  Enan  tells  Joseph  another  story  of  his 
friend  the  judge's  sagacity: 

THE  NOBLEMAN  AND  THE  NECKLACE 

A  man  lived  in  Cordova,  Jacob  by  name,  the  broker ;  he  was 
a  man  of  tried  honesty.  Once  a  jewelled  necklet  was  entrusted 
to  him  for  sale  by  the  judge,  the  owner  demanding  five  hundred 
pieces  of  gold  as  its  price.  Jacob  had  the  chain  in  his  hand 
when  he  met  a  nobleman,  one  of  the  king's  intimate  friends.  The 
nobleman  offered  four  hundred  pieces  for  the  necklet,  which 
Jacob  refused.  "  Come  with  me  to  my  house,  and  I  will  consider 

41 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

the  price,"  said  the  would-be  purchaser.  The  Jew  accompanied 
him  home,  and  the  nobleman  went  within.  Jacob  waited  outside 
the  gate  till  the  evening,  but  no  one  came  out.  He  passed  a 
sleepless  night  with  his  wife  and  children,  and  next  morning 
returned  to  the  nobleman.  "  Buy  the  necklace,"  said  he,  "  or 
return  it."  The  nobleman  denied  all  knowledge  of  the  jewels, 
so  Jacob  went  to  the  judge.  He  sent  for  the  nobles,  to  address 
them  as  was  his  wont,  and  as  soon  as  they  had  arrived,  he 
said  to  the  thief's  servant,  "  Take  your  master's  shoe  and  go  to 
his  wife.  Show  the  shoe  and  say,  Your  lord  bids  me  ask  you 
for  the  necklace  he  bought  yesterday,  as  he  wishes  to  exhibit 
its  beauty  to  his  friends."  The  wife  gave  the  servant  the  orna 
ment,  the  theft  was  made  manifest,  and  it  was  restored  to  its 
rightful  owner. 

And  Enan  goes  on : 

THE   SON  AND  THE   SLAVE 

A  merchant  of  measureless  wealth  had  an  only  son,  who,  when 
he  grew  up,  said,  "  Father,  send  me  on  a  voyage,  that  I  may 
trade  and  see  foreign  lands,  and  talk  with  men  of  wisdom,  to 
learn  from  their  words."  The  father  purchased  a  ship,  and 
sent  him  on  a  voyage,  with  much  wealth  and  many  friends.  The 
father  was  left  at  home  with  his  slave,  in  whom  he  put  his 
trust,  and  who  filled  his  son's  place  in  position  and  affection. 
Suddenly  a  pain  seized  him  in  the  heart,  and  he  died  without 
directing  how  his  property  was  to  be  divided.  The  slave  took 
possession  of  everything;  no  one  in  the  town  knew  whether  he 
was  the  man's  slave  or  his  son.  Ten  years  passed,  and  the  real 
son  returned,  with  his  ship  laden  with  wealth.  As  they  ap 
proached  the  harbor,  the  ship  was  wrecked.  They  had  cast 

42 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

everything  overboard,  in  a  vain  effort  to  save  it;  finally,  the  crew 
and  the  passengers  were  all  thrown  into  the  sea.  The  son  reached 
the  shore  destitute,  and  returned  to  his  father's  house;  but  the 
slave  drove  him  away,  denying  his  identity.  They  went  before 
the  judge.  "  Find  the  loathly  merchant's  grave,"  he  said  to  the 
slave,  "  and  bring  me  the  dead  man's  bones.  I  shall  burn  them 
for  his  neglect  to  leave  a  will,  thus  rousing  strife  as  to  his  prop 
erty."  The  slave  started  to  obey,  but  the  son  stayed  him.  "  Keep 
all,"  said  he,  "but  disturb  not  my  father's  bones."  "Thou  art 
the  son,"  said  the  judge;  "take  this  other  as  thy  lifelong  slave." 

Joseph  and  Enan  pass  to  the  city  of  Tobiah.  At 
the  gate  they  are  accosted  by  an  old  and  venerable 
man,  to  whom  they  explain  that  they  have  been  on 
the  way  for  seven  days.  He  invites  them  to  his 
home,  treats  them  hospitably,  and  after  supper  tells 
them  sweet  and  pleasant  tales,  "  among  his  words 
an  incident  wonderful  to  the  highest  degree." 
This  wonderful  story  is  none  other  than  a  distorted 
version  of  the  Book  of  Tobit.  I  have  translated 
this  in  full,  and  in  rhymed  prose,  as  a  specimen  of 
the  original. 

THE  STORY  OF  TOBIT 

Here,  in  the  days  of  the  saints  of  old,  in  the  concourse  of  elders 
of  age  untold,  there  lived  a  man  upright  and  true,  in  all  his 
doings  good  fortune  he  knew.  Rich  was  he  and  great,  his  eyes 
looked  ever  straight:  Tobiah,  the  son  of  Ahiah,  a  man  of  Dan, 
helped  the  poor,  to  each  gave  of  his  store ;  whene'er  one  friendless 

43 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

died,  the  shroud  he  supplied,  bore  the  corpse  to  the  grave,  nor 
thought  his  money  to  save.  The  men  of  the  place,  a  sin-ruled 
race,  slandering,  cried,  "  O  King,  these  Jewish  knaves  open  our 
graves !  Our  bones  they  burn,  into  charms  to  turn,  health  to  earn." 
The  king  angrily  spoke:  "I  will  weighten  their  yoke,  and  their 
villainy  repay;  all  the  Jews  who,  from  to-day,  die  in  this  town, 
to  the  pit  take  down,  to  the  pit  hurry  all,  without  burial.  Who 
buries  a  Jew,  the  hour  shall  rue ;  bitter  his  pang,  on  the  gallows 
shall  he  hang."  Soon  a  sojourner  did  die,  and  no  friends  were 
by;  but  good  Tobiah  the  corpse  did  lave,  and  dress  it  for  the 
grave.  Some  sinners  saw  the  deed,  to  the  judge  the  word  they 
gave,  who  Tobiah's  death  decreed.  Forth  the  saint  they  draw, 
to  hang  him  as  by  law.  But  now  they  near  the  tree,  lo!  no 
man  can  see,  a  blindness  falls  on  all,  and  Tobiah  flies  their 
thrall.  Many  friends  his  loss  do  weep,  but  homewards  he  doth 
creep,  God's  mercies  to  narrate,  and  his  own  surprising  fate, 
"  Praise  ye  the  Lord,  dear  friends,  for  His  mercy  never  ends, 
and  to  His  servants  good  intends."  Fear  the  king  distressed, 
his  heart  beat  at  his  breast,  new  decrees  his  fear  expressed. 
"  Whoe'er  a  Jew  shall  harm,"  the  king  cried  in  alarm,  "  touching 
his  person  or  personalty,  touches  the  apple  of  my  eye;  let  no  man 
do  this  wrong,  or  I'll  hang  him  'mid  the  throng,  high  though 
his  rank,  and  his  lineage  long."  And  well  he  kept  his  word, 
he  punished  those  who  erred;  but  on  the  Jews  his  mercies  shone, 
the  while  he  filled  the  throne. 

Once  lay  the  saint  at  rest,  and  glanced  upon  the  nest  of  a 
bird  within  his  room.  Ah !  cruel  was  his  doom !  Into  his  eye 
there  went  the  sparrow's  excrement.  Tobiah's  sight  was  gone ! 
He  had  an  only  son,  whom  thus  he  now  addressed:  "When  busi 
ness  ventures  pressed,  I  passed  from  clime  to  clime.  Well  I 

44 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

recall  the  time,  when  long  I  dwelt  in  Ind,  of  wealth  full  stores 
to  find.  But  perilous  was  the  road,  and  entrusted  I  my  load 
with  one  of  honest  fame,  Peer  Hazeman  his  name.  And  now 
list,  beloved  son,  go  out  and  hire  thee  one,  thy  steps  forthwith 
to  guide  unto  my  old  friend's  side.  I  know  his  love's  full 
stream,  his  trust  he  will  redeem ;  when  heareth  he  my  plight, 
when  seeth  he  thy  sight,  then  will  he  do  the  right."  The  youth 
found  whom  he  sought,  a  man  by  travel  taught,  the  ways  of 
Ind  he  knew ;  he  knew  them  through  and  through,  he  knew  them 
up  and  down,  as  a  townsman  knows  his  town.  He  brought  him 
to  his  sire,  who  straightway  did  inquire,  "  Knowest  thou  an 
Indian  spot,  a  city  named  Tobot?" — "Full  well  I  know  the 
place,  I  spent  a  two  years'  space  in  various  enterprise ;  its  people 
all  are  wise,  and  honest  men  and  true." — "  What  must  I  give 
to  you,"  asked  Tobiah  of  his  guest,  "  to  take  my  son  in  quest?  " — 
"  Of  pieces  pure  of  gold,  full  fifty  must  be  told." — "  I'll  pay  you 
that  with  joy;  start  forth  now  with  my  boy."  A  script  the  son 
did  write,  which  Tobiah  did  indite,  and  on  his  son  bestow  a 
sign  his  friend  would  know.  The  father  kissed  his  son,  "  In 
peace,"  said  he,  "  get  gone ;  may  God  my  life  maintain  till  thou 
art  come  again."  The  youth  and  guide  to  Tobot  hied,  and 
reached  anon  Peer  Hazeman.  "Why  askest  thou  my  name?" 
Straight  the  answer  came,  "Tobiah  is  my  sire,  and  he  doth 
inquire  of  thy  health  and  thy  household's."  Then  the  letter 
he  unfolds.  The  contents  Peer  espies,  every  doubt  flies,  he  re 
gards  the  token  with  no  word  spoken.  "  'Tis  the  son  of  my 
friend,  who  greeting  thus  doth  send.  Is  it  well  with  him? 
Say." — "Well,  well  with  him  alway." — "Then  dwell  thou  here 
a  while,  and  hours  sweet  beguile  with  the  tales  which  thou  wilt 
tell  of  him  I  loved  so  well."—"  Nay,  I  must  forthwith  part  to 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

soothe  my  father's  heart.  I  am  his  only  trust,  return  at  once  I 
must."  Peer  Hazeman  agrees  the  lad  to  release;  gives  him  all 
his  father's  loan,  and  gifts  adds  of  his  own,  raiment  and  two 
slaves.  To  music's  pleasant  staves,  the  son  doth  homeward 
wend.  By  the  shore  of  the  sea  went  the  lad  full  of  glee,  and  the 
wind  blew  a  blast,  and  a  fish  was  upward  cast.  Then  hastened 
the  guide  to  ope  the  fish's  side,  took  the  liver  and  the  gall,  for 
cure  of  evil's  thrall :  liver  to  give  demons  flight,  gall  to  restore 
men's  sight.  The  youth  begged  his  friend  these  specifics  to  lend, 
then  went  he  on  his  way  to  where  his  sick  sire  lay.  Then  spake 
the  youth  to  his  father  all  the  truth.  "  Send  not  away  the  guide 
without  pay."  The  son  sought  the  man,  through  the  city  he  ran, 
but  the  man  had  disappeared.  Said  Tobiah,  "  Be  not  afeared, 
'twas  Elijah  the  seer,  whom  God  sent  here  to  stand  by  our  side, 
our  needs  to  provide."  He  bathed  both  his  eyes  with  the  gall 
of  the  prize,  and  his  sight  was  restored  by  the  grace  of  the 
Lord. 

Then  said  he  to  his  son,  "  Now  God  His  grace  has  shown, 
dost  thou  not  yearn  to  do  a  deed  in  turn?  My  niece  forthwith 
wed." — "  But  her  husbands  three  are  dead,  each  gave  up  his 
life  as  each  made  her  his  wife;  to  her  shame  and  to  her  sorrow, 
they  survived  not  to  the  morrow." — "  Nay,  a  demon  is  the  doer  of 
this  harm  to  every  wooer.  My  son,  obey  my  wish,  take  the 
liver  of  the  fish,  and  burn  it  in  full  fume,  at  the  door  of 
her  room,  'twill  give  the  demon  his  doom."  At  his  father's 
command,  with  his  life  in  his  hand,  the  youth  sought  the  maid, 
and  wedded  her  unafraid.  For  long  timid  hours  his  prayer 
Tobiah  pours;  but  the  incense  was  alight,  the  demon  took  to 
flight,  and  safe  was  all  the  night.  Long  and  happily  wed,  their 
lives  sweetly  sped. 

46 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

Their  entertainer  tells  Joseph  and  Enan  another 
story  of  piety  connected  with  the  burial  of  the  dead : 

THE  PARALYTIC'S  TOUCHSTONE  OF  VIRTUE 
Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  saintly  man,  whose  abode 
was  on  the  way  to  the  graveyard.  Every  funeral  passed  his 
door,  and  he  would  ever  rise  and  join  in  the  procession,  and 
assist  those  engaged  in  the  burial.  In  his  old  age  his  feet  were 
paralyzed,  and  he  could  not  leave  his  bed;  the  dead  passed  his 
doors,  and  he  sighed  that  he  could  not  rise  to  display  his  wonted 
respect.  Then  prayed  he  to  the  Lord :  "  O  Lord,  who  givest 
eyes  to  the  blind  and  feet  to  the  lame,  hear  me  from  the  corner 
of  my  sorrowful  bed.  Grant  that  when  a  pious  man  is  borne  to 
his  grave,  I  may  be  able  to  rise  to  my  feet."  An  angel's  voice  in 
a  vision  answered  him,  "  Lo,  thy  prayer  is  heard."  And  so, 
whenever  a  pious  man  was  buried,  he  rose  and  prayed  for  his 
soul.  On  a  day,  there  died  one  who  had  grown  old  in  the 
world's  repute,  a  man  of  excellent  piety,  yet  the  lame  man  could 
not  rise  as  his  funeral  passed.  Next  day  died  a  quarrelsome 
fellow,  of  ill  fame  for  his  notorious  sins,  and  when  his  body 
was  carried  past  the  lame  man's  door,  the  paralytic  was  able  to 
stand.  Every  one  was  amazed,  for  hitherto  the  lame  man's 
rising  or  resting  had  been  a  gauge  of  the  departed's  virtue.  Two 
sage  men  resolved  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  mystery.  They  in 
terviewed  the  wife  of  the  fellow  who  had  died  second.  The 
wife  confirmed  the  worst  account  of  him,  but  added:  "He  had 
an  old  father,  aged  one  hundred  years,  and  he  honored  and 
served  him.  Every  day  he  kissed  his  hand,  gave  him  drink, 
stripped  and  dressed  him  when,  from  old  age,  he  could  not  turn 
himself  on  his  couch;  daily  he  brought  ox  and  lamb  bones,  from 

47 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

which  he  drew  the  marrow,  and  made  dainty  foods  of  it."  And 
the  people  knew  that  honoring  his  father  had  atoned  for  his 
transgressions.  Then  the  two  inquisitors  went  to  the  house  of  the 
pious  man,  before  whom  the  paralytic  had  been  unable  to  rise. 
His  widow  gave  him  an  excellent  character;  he  was  gentle  and 
pious;  prayed  three  times  a  day,  and  at  midnight  rose  and  went 
to  a  special  chamber  to  say  his  prayers.  No  one  had  ever  seen 
the  room  but  himself,  as  he  ever  kept  the  key  in  his  bosom.  The 
two  inquisitors  opened  the  door  of  this  chamber,  and  found  a 
small  box  hidden  in  the  window-sill ;  they  opened  the  box,  and 
found  in  it  a  golden  figure  bearing  a  crucifix.  Thus  the  man 
had  been  one  of  those  who  do  the  deeds  of  Zimri,  and  expect  the 
reward  of  Phineas. 

TABLE  TALK 

Joseph  and  Enan  then  retire  to  rest,  and  their 
sleep  is  sweet  and  long.  By  strange  and  devious 
ways  they  continue  their  journey  on  the  morrow, 
starting  at  dawn.  Again  they  pass  the  night  at  the 
house  of  one  of  Enan's  friends,  Rabbi  Judah,  a 
ripe  old  sage  and  hospitable,  who  welcomes  them 
cordially,  feeds  them  bountifully,  gives  them  spiced 
dishes,  wine  of  the  grape  and  the  pomegranate,  and 
then  tells  stories  and  proverbs  "  from  the  books  of 
the  Arabs." 

A  man  said  to  a  sage,  "Thou  braggest  of  thy  wisdom,  but  it 
came  from  me."  "  Yes,"  replied  the  sage,  "  and  it  forgot  its 
way  back." — Who  is  the  worst  of  men?  He  who  is  good  in  his 
own  esteem. — Said  a  king  to  a  sage,  "  Sweet  would  be  a  king's 

48 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

reign  if  it  lasted  forever."  "  Had  such  been  your  predecessor's 
lot,"  replied  the  wise  man,  "  how  would  you  have  reached  the 
throne?" — A  man  laid  a  complaint  before  the  king;  the  latter 
drove  the  suppliant  out  with  violence.  "  I  entered  with  one  com 
plaint,"  sighed  the  man,  "I  leave  with  two." — What  is  style? 
Be  brief  and  do  not  repeat  yourself. — The  king  once  visited 
a  nobleman's  house,  and  asked  the  latter's  son,  "  Whose  house 
is  better,  your  father's  or  mine  ?  "  "  My  father's,"  said  the  boy, 
"  while  the  king  is  in  it." — A  king  put  on  a  new  robe,  which  did 
not  become  him.  "  It  is  not  good  to  wear,"  said  a  courtier,  "  but 
it  is  good  to  put  on."  The  king  put  the  robe  on  him. — A  bore 
visited  a  sick  man.  "  What  ails  thee  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Thy  pres 
ence,"  said  the  sufferer. — A  man  of  high  lineage  abused  a  wise 
man  of  lowly  birth.  "  My  lineage  is  a  blot  on  me,"  retorted  a 
sage,  "  thou  art  a  blot  on  thy  lineage." — To  another  who  reviled 
him  for  his  lack  of  noble  ancestry,  he  retorted,  "  Thy  noble  line 
ends  with  thee,  with  me  mine  begins." — Diogenes  and  Dives 
were  attacked  by  robbers.  "  Woe  is  me,"  said  Dives,  "  if  they 
recognize  me."  "  Woe  is  me,"  said  Diogenes,  "  if  they  do  not 
recognize  me." — A  philosopher  sat  by  the  target  at  which  the 
archers  were  shooting.  "  'Tis  the  safest  spot,"  said  he. — An 
Arab's  brother  died.  "Why  did  he  die?"  one  asked.  "Because 
he  lived,"  was  the  answer. — "What  hast  thou  laid  up  for  the 
cold  weather?"  they  asked  a  poor  fellow.  "Shivering,"  he 
answered. — Death  is  the  dread  of  the  rich  and  the  hope  of  the 
poor. — Which  is  the  best  of  the  beasts?  Woman. — Hide  thy  vir 
tues  as  thou  hidest  thy  faults. — A  dwarf  brought  a  complaint 
to  his  king.  "  No  one,"  said  the  king,  "  would  hurt  such  a 
pigmy."  "But,"  retorted  the  dwarf,  "my  injurer  is  smaller  than 
I  am."— A  dolt  sat  on  a  stone.  "  Lo,  a  blockhead  on  a  block," 
4  49 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

said  the  passers-by. — "What  prayer  make  you  by  night?"  they 
asked  a  sage.  "  Fear  God  by  day,  and  by  night  you  will  sleep, 
not  pray." — Rather  a  wise  enemy  than  a  foolish  friend. — Not 
everyone  who  flees  escapes,  not  everyone  who  begs  has  need. — 
A  sage  had  weak  eyes.  "  Heal  them,"  said  they.  "  To  see 
what?"  he  rejoined. — A  fool  quarrelled  with  a  sage.  Said  the 
former,  "  For  every  word  of  abuse  I  hear  from  thee,  I  will  retort 
ten."  "  Nay,"  replied  the  other,  "  for  every  ten  words  of  abuse 
I  hear  from  thee,  I  will  not  retort  one." — An  honest  man  cannot 
catch  a  thief. — All  things  grow  with  time  except  grief. — The 
character  of  the  sent  tells  the  character  of  the  sender. — What 
is  man's  best  means  of  concealment?  Speech. — "Why  walkest 
thou  so  slowly?"  asked  the  lad  of  the  greybeard.  "My  years 
are  a  chain  to  my  feet:  and  thy  years  are  preparing  thy  chain." — 
Do  not  swallow  poison  because  you  know  an  antidote. — The  king 
heard  a  woman  at  prayer.  "  O  God,"  she  said,  "  remove  this 
king  from  us."  "  And  put  a  better  in  his  stead,"  added  the 
eavesdropping  monarch. — Take  measure  for  this  life  as  though 
thou  wilt  live  forever;  prepare  for  the  next  world  as  though 
thou  diest  to-morrow. — "  He  will  die,"  said  the  doctor,  but  the 
patient  recovered.  "  You  have  returned  from  the  other  world," 
said  the  doctor  when  he  met  the  man.  "  Yes,"  said  the  latter, 
"  and  the  doctors  have  a  bad  time  there.  But  fear  not.  Thou 
art  no  doctor." — Three  things  weary:  a  lamp  that  will  not 
burn,  a  messenger  that  dawdles,  a  table  spread  and  waiting. 

Then  follows  a  string  of  sayings  about  threes: 

Reason  rules  the  body,  wisdom  is  the  pilot,  law  is  its  light. 
Might  is  the  lion's,  burdens  are  the  ox's,  wisdom  is  man's ; 
spinning  the  spider's,  building  the  bee's,  making  stores  the  ant's. 

50 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

In  three  cases  lying  is  permissible:  in  war,  in  reconciling  man  to 
man,  in  appeasing  one's  wife. 

Their  host  concludes  his  lengthy  list  of  senten 
tious  remarks  thus : 

A  king  had  a  signet  ring,  on  which  were  engraved  the  words, 
"  Thou  hast  bored  me :  rise !  "  and  when  a  guest  stayed  too 
long,  he  showed  the  visitor  the  ring. — The  heir  of  a  wealthy 
man  squandered  his  money,  and  a  sage  saw  him  eating  bread 
and  salted  olives.  "  Hadst  thou  thought  that  this  would  be 
thy  food,  this  would  not  be  thy  food." — Marry  no  widow.  She 
will  lament  her  first  husband's  death. 

THE  CITY  OF  ENAN 

This  was  the  signal  for  the  party  to  retire  to 
rest. 

Next  day  the  wayfarers  reach  Enan's  own  city, 
the  place  he  had  all  along  desired  Joseph  to  see. 
He  shows  Joseph  his  house ;  but  the  latter  replies, 
"  I  crave  food,  not  sight-seeing."  "  Surely,"  says 
Enan,  "  the  more  hurry  the  less  speed."  At  last 
the  table  is  spread;  the  cloth  is  ragged,  the  dishes 
contain  unleavened  bread,  such  as  there  is  no  pleas 
ure  in  eating,  and  there  is  a  dish  of  herbs  and  vine 
gar.  Then  ensues  a  long  wrangle,  displaying  much 
medical  knowledge,  on  the  physiology  of  herbs  and 
vegetables,  on  the  eating  of  flesh,  much  and  fast. 

51 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

Enan  makes  sarcastic  remarks  on  Joseph's  rapa 
cious  appetite.  He  tells  Joseph,  he  must  not  eat 
this  or  that.  A  joint  of  lamb  is  brought  on  the 
table,  Enan  says  the  head  is  bad,  and  the  feet,  and 
the  flesh,  and  the  fat;  so  that  Joseph  has  no  alter 
native  but  to  eat  it  all.  "  I  fear  that  what  hap 
pened  to  the  king,  will  befall  thee,"  said  Enan. 
u  Let  me  feed  first,"  said  Joseph;  "  then  you  can 
tell  me  what  happened  to  the  king." 

THE  PRINCESS  AND  THE  ROSE 

A  gardener  came  to  his  garden  in  the  winter.  It  was  the 
month  of  Tebet,  and  he  found  some  roses  in  flower.  He  re 
joiced  at  seeing  them;  and  he  plucked  them,  and  put  them  on 
a  precious  dish,  carried  them  to  the  king,  and  placed  them  before 
him.  The  king  was  surprised,  and  the  flowers  were  goodly  in 
his  sight;  and  he  gave  the  gardener  one  hundred  pieces  of  gold. 
Then  said  the  king  in  his  heart,  "  To-day  we  will  make  merry, 
and  have  a  feast."  All  his  servants  and  faithful  ministers  were 
invited  to  rejoice  over  the  joy  of  the  roses.  And  he  sent  for 
his  only  daughter,  then  with  child;  and  she  stretched  forth  her 
hand  to  take  a  rose,  and  a  serpent  that  lay  in  the  dish  leapt  at 
her  and  startled  her,  and  she  died  before  night. 

QUESTION  AND  ANSWER 

But  Joseph's  appetite  was  not  to  be  stayed  by 
such  tales  as  this.  So  Enan  tells  him  of  the  "  Lean 
Fox  and  the  Hole  ";  but  in  vain.  "  Open  not  thy 

52 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

mouth  to  Satan,"  says  Joseph.  "  I  fear  for  my 
appetite,  that  it  become  smaller  "  ;  and  goes  on 
eating. 

Now  Enan  tries  another  tack:  he  will  question 
him,  and  put  him  through  his  paces.  But  Joseph 
yawns  and  protests  that  he  has  eaten  too  much  to 
keep  his  eyes  open. 

"  How  canst  thou  sleep,"  said  Enan,  "  when  thou  hast  eaten 
everything,  fresh  and  stale?  As  I  live,  thou  shalt  not  seek  thy 
bed  until  I  test  thy  wisdom — until  I  prove  whether  all  this 
provender  has  entered  the  stomach  of  a  wise  man  or  a  fool." 

Then  follows  an  extraordinary  string  of  ana 
tomical,  medical,  scientific,  and  Talmudic  ques 
tions  about  the  optic  nerves;  the  teeth;  why  a  man 
lowers  his  head  when  thinking  over  things  he  has 
never  known,  but  raises  his  head  when  thinking 
over  what  he  once  knew  but  has  forgotten;  the 
physiology  of  the  digestive  organs,  the  physiology 
of  laughter;  why  a  boy  eats  more  than  a  man;  why 
it  is  harder  to  ascend  a  hill  than  to  go  down;  why 
snow  is  white ;  why  babies  have  no  teeth ;  why  chil 
dren's  first  set  of  teeth  fall  out;  why  saddest  tears 
are  saltest;  why  sea  water  is  heavier  than  fresh; 
why  hail  descends  in  summer;  why  the  sages  said 
that  bastards  are  mostly  clever.  To  these  ques 
tions,  which  Enan  pours  out  in  a  stream,  Joseph 

53 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

readily  gives  answers.    But  now  Enan  is  hoist  with 
his  own  petard. 

"  I  looked  at  him,"  continues  the  poet,  "  and  sleep  entrapped 
his  eyes,  and  his  eyelids  kissed  the  irides.  Ah !  I  laughed  in  my 
heart.  Now  I  will  talk  to  him,  and  puzzle  him  as  he  has  been 
puzzling  me.  He  shall  not  sleep,  as  he  would  not  let  me  sleep. 
'  My  lord,'  said  I,  '  let  me  now  question  thee.'  '  I  am  sleepy,' 
said  he,  'but  ask  on.'  'What  subject  shall  I  choose?'  I  said. 
'Any  subject,'  he  replied;  'of  all  knowledge  I  know  the  half.'" 
Joseph  asks  him  astronomical,  musical,  logical,  arithmetical  ques 
tions  ;  to  all  of  which  Enan  replies,  "  I  do  not  know."  "  But," 
protests  Joseph,  "  how  couldst  thou  assert  that  thou  knewest  half 
of  every  subject,  when  it  is  clear  thou  knowest  nothing?" 
"  Exactly,"  says  Enan,  "  for  Aristotle  says,  '  He  who  says,  I 
do  not  know,  has  already  attained  the  half  of  knowledge.'  " 

But  he  says  he  knows  medicine;  so  Joseph  pro 
ceeds  to  question  him.  Soon  he  discovers  that 
Enan  is  again  deceiving  him;  and  he  abuses  Enan 
roundly  for  his  duplicity. 

Enan  at  length  is  moved  to  retort. 

"  I  wonder  at  thy  learning,"  says  Enan,  "  but  more  at  thy 
appetite."  Then  the  lamp  goes  out,  the  servant  falls  asleep,  and 
they  are  left  in  darkness  till  the  morning.  Then  Joseph  demands 
his  breakfast,  and  goes  out  to  see  his  ass.  The  ass  attempts  to 
bite  Joseph,  who  strikes  it,  and  the  ass  speaks.  "  I  am  one  of 
the  family  of  Balaam's  ass,"  says  the  animal.  "But  I  am  not 
Balaam,"  says  Joseph,  "to  divine  that  thou  hast  eaten  nothing 
all  night."  The  servant  asserts  that  he  fed  the  ass,  but  the 

54 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

animal  had  gobbled  up  everything,  Vis  appetite  being  equal 
to  his  owner's.  But  Joseph  will  not  beueve  this,  and  Enan  is 
deeply  hurt.  "  Peace ! "  he  shouts,  and  Kis  eyes  shoot  flames, 
and  his  nostrils  distil  smoke.  "  Peace,  cease  thy  folly,  or,  as  I 
live,  and  my  ancestor  Asmodeus,  I  will  seize  thee  with  my  little 
finger,  and  will  show  thee  the  city  of  David." 

In  timid  tones  Joseph  asks  him,  "Who  is  this  Asmodeus,  thy 
kinsman?  " 

ENAN  REVEALS  HIMSELF 

"  Asmodeus,"  said  Enan,  "  the  great  prince  who,  on  his  wing, 
bore  Solomon  from  his  kingdom  to  a  distant  strand."  "  Woe  is 
me,"  I  moaned,  "  I  thought  thee  a  friend ;  now  thou  art  a  fiend. 
Why  didst  thou  hide  thy  nature?  Why  didst  thou  conceal  thy 
descent  ?  Why  hast  thou  taken  me  from  my  home  in  guile  ?  " 
"Nay,"  said  Enan,  "where  was  thy  understanding?  I  gave 
thee  my  name,  thou  shouldst  have  inverted  it"  [i.  e.,  transpose 
Desk  to  Shed.  Enan  at  the  beginning  of  the  tale  had  announced 
himself  as  ha-Desh,  he  now  explains  that  meant  ha-Shed  =  the 
demon].  Then  Enan  gives  his  pedigree:  "  I  am  Enan,  the  Satan, 
son  of  Arnan  the  Demon,  son  of  the  Place  of  Death,  son  of  Rage, 
son  of  Death's  Shadow,  son  of  Terror,  son  of  Trembling,  son  of 
Destruction,  son  of  Extinction,  son  of  Evil-name,  son  of  Mocking, 
son  of  Plague,  son  of  Deceit,  son  of  Injury,  son  of  Asmodeus." 

Nevertheless  Enan  quiets  Joseph's  fears,  and 
promises  that  no  harm  shall  befall  him.  He  goes 
through  Enan's  city,  sees  wizards  and  sorcerers,  and 
sinners  and  fools,  all  giants. 

55 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 
ENAN'S  FRIEND  AND  HIS  DAUGHTER 

Then  Enan  introduces  his  own  especial  friend.  "  He  is  good 
and  wise,"  said  Enan,  "  despite  his  tall  stature.  He  shows  his 
goodness  in  hating  the  wise  and  loving  fools;  he  is  generous, 
for  he  will  give  a  beggar  a  crust  of  dry  bread,  and  make  him 
pay  for  it;  he  knows  medicine,  for  he  can  tell  that  if  a  man  is 
buried,  he  either  has  been  sick,  or  has  had  an  accident;  he 
knows  astronomy,  for  he  can  tell  that  it  is  day  when  the  sun 
shines,  and  night  when  the  stars  appear;  he  knows  arithmetic, 
for  he  can  tell  that  one  and  one  make  two;  he  knows  mensura 
tion,  for  he  can  tell  how  many  handbreadths  his  belly  measures ; 
he  knows  music,  for  he  can  tell  the  difference  between  the  barking 
of  a  dog  and  the  braying  of  an  ass."  "  But,  said  I,"  continues 
Joseph,  "  how  canst  thou  be  the  friend  of  such  a  one  ?  Accursed 
is  he,  accursed  his  master."  "  Nay,"  answered  Enan,  "  I  love 
him  not;  I  know  his  vile  nature:  'tis  his  daughter  that  binds  me 
to  him,  for  she,  with  her  raven  locks  and  dove's  eyes  and  lily 
cheeks,  is  fair  beyond  my  power  to  praise."  Yet  I  warned  him 
against  marrying  the  daughter  of  an  uneducated  man,  an  Am 
ha-Arez.  Then  follows  a  compilation  of  passages  directed 
against  ignorance.  "  Ah !  "  cries  Enan,  "  your  warning  moves  me. 
My  love  for  her  is  fled.  Thou  fearest  God  and  lovest  me,  my 
friend.  What  is  a  friend?  One  heart  in  two  bodies.  Then 
find  me  another  wife,  one  who  is  beautiful  and  good.  Worse 
than  a  plague  is  a  bad  woman.  Listen  to  what  once  befell  me 
with  such  a  one." 

Thereupon  Enan  introduces  the  last  of  the  stones 
incorporated  into  the  book : 

56 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 
THE  WASHERWOMAN  WHO  DID  THE  DEVIL'S  WORK 

Once  upon  a  time,  in  ray  wanderings  to  and  fro  upon  the 
earth,  I  came  to  a  city  whose  inhabitants  dwelt  together,  happy, 
prosperous,  and  secure.  I  made  myself  well  acquainted  with  the 
place  and  the  people,  but,  despite  all  my  efforts,  I  was  unable  to 
entrap  a  single  one.  "  This  is  no  place  for  me,"  I  said,  "  I  had 
better  return  to  my  own  country."  I  left  the  city,  and,  journey 
ing  on,  came  across  a  river,  at  the  brink  of  which  I  seated  myself. 
Scarcely  had  I  done  so,  when  a  woman  appeared  bearing  her 
garments  to  be  washed  in  the  river.  She  looked  at  me,  and 
asked,  "  Art  thou  of  the  children  of  men  or  of  demons?  "  "  Well," 
said  I,  "  I  have  grown  up  among  men,  but  I  was  born  among 
demons."  "But  what  art  thou  after  here?"  "Ah,"  I  replied, 
"  I  have  spent  a  whole  month  in  yonder  city.  And  what  have  I 
found  ?  A  city  full  of  friends,  enjoying  every  happiness  in 
common.  In  vain  have  I  tried  to  put  a  little  of  wickedness 
among  them."  Then  the  woman,  with  a  supercilious  air :  "  If 
I  am  to  take  thee  for  a  specimen,  I  must  have  a  very  poor 
opinion  of  the  whole  tribe  of  demons.  You  seem  mighty  enough, 
but  you  haven't  the  strength  of  women.  Stop  here  and  keep  an 
eye  on  the  wash;  but  mind,  play  me  no  tricks.  I  will  go  back 
to  the  city  and  kindle  therein  fire  and  fury,  and  pour  over  it  a 
spirit  of  mischief,  and  thou  shalt  see  how  I  can  manage  things." 
"  Agreed !  "  said  I,  "  I  will  stay  here  and  await  thy  coming, 
and  watch  how  affairs  turn  out  in  thy  hands." 

The  washerwoman  departed,  went  into  the  city,  called  upon 
one  of  the  great  families  there  residing,  and  requested  to  see 
the  lady  of  the  house.  She  asked  for  a  washing  order,  which 
she  promised  to  execute  to  the  most  perfect  satisfaction.  While 
the  housemaid  was  collecting  the  linen,  the  washerwoman  lifted 

57 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

her  eyes  to  the  beautiful  face  of  the  mistress,  and  exclaimed: 
"  Yes,  they  are  a  dreadful  lot,  the  men ;  they  are  all  alike,  a 
malediction  on  them !  The  best  of  them  is  not  to  be  trusted. 
They  love  all  women  but  their  own  wives."  "  What  dost  thou 
mean?  "  asked  the  lady.  "  Merely  this,"  she  answered.  "  Coming 
hither  from  my  house,  whom  should  I  meet  but  thy  husband 
making  love  to  another  woman,  and  such  a  hideous  creature,  too ! 
How  he  could  forsake  beauty  so  rare  and  exquisite  as  thine  for 
such  disgusting  ugliness,  passes  my  understanding.  But  do  not 
weep,  dear  lady,  don't  distress  thyself  and  give  way.  I  know 
a  means  by  which  I  shall  bring  that  husband  of  thine  to  his 
senses,  so  that  thou  shalt  suffer  no  reproach,  and  he  shall  never 
love  any  other  woman  than  thee.  This  is  what  thou  must  do. 
When  thy  husband  comes  home,  speak  softly  and  sweetly  to  him; 
let  him  suspect  nothing;  and  when  he  has  fallen  asleep,  take  a 
sharp  razor  and  cut  off  three  hairs  from  his  beard ;  black  or 
white  hairs,  it  matters  not.  These  thou  must  afterwards  give  to 
me,  and  with  them  I  will  compound  such  a  remedy  that  his 
eyes  shall  be  darkened  in  their  sockets,  so  that  he  will  look  no 
more  upon  other  lovely  women,  but  cling  to  thee  alone  in  mighty 
and  manifest  and  enduring  love."  All  this  the  lady  promised, 
and  gifts  besides  for  the  washerwoman,  should  her  plan  prosper. 
Carrying  the  garments  with  her,  the  woman  now  sought  out 
the  lady's  husband.  With  every  sign  of  distress  in  her  voice 
and  manner,  she  told  him  that  she  had  a  frightful  secret  to 
divulge  to  him.  She  knew  not  if  she  would  have  the  strength 
to  do  so.  She  would  rather  die  first.  The  husband  was  all  the 
more  eager  to  know,  and  would  not  be  refused.  "  Well,  then," 
she  said,  "  I  have  just  been  to  thy  house,  where  my  lady,  thy 
wife,  gave  me  these  garments  to  wash;  and,  while  I  was  yet 

58 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

standing  there,  a  youth,  of  handsome  mien  and  nobly  attired, 
arrived,  and  the  two  withdrew  into  an  adjoining  room:  so  I 
inclined  mine  ear  to  listen  to  their  speech,  and  this  is  what  I 
overheard:  The  young  man  said  to  thy  wife,  'Kill  thy  hus 
band,  and  I  will  marry  thee.'  She,  however,  declared  that  she 
was  afraid  to  do  such  a  dreadful  deed.  '  O,'  answered  he, 
'  with  a  little  courage  it  is  quite  easy.  When  thy  husband  is 
asleep,  take  a  sharp  razor  and  cut  his  throat.'  "  In  fierce  rage, 
but  suppressing  all  outward  indication  of  it,  the  husband  returned 
home.  Pretending  to  fall  asleep,  he  watched  his  wife  closely, 
saw  her  take  a  razor  to  sever  the  three  hairs  for  the  washer 
woman's  spell,  darted  up  suddenly,  wrested  the  razor  from  her 
hands,  and  with  it  slew  his  wife  on  the  spot. 

The  news  spread ;  the  relations  of  the  wife  united  to  avenge 
her  death,  and  kill  the  husband.  In  their  turn  his  relatives  re 
solved  to  avenge  him ;  both  houses  were  embroiled,  and  before 
the  feud  was  at  an  end,  two  hundred  and  thirty  lives  were 
sacrificed.  The  city  resounded  with  a  great  cry,  the  like  of 
which  had  never  been  heard.  "  From  that  day,"  concluded 
Enan,  "  I  decided  to  injure  no  man  more.  Yet  for  this  very 
reason  I  fear  to  wed  an  evil  woman."  "  Fear  not,"  returned 
Joseph,  "the  girl  I  recommend  is  beautiful  and  good."  And 
Enan  married  her,  and  loved  her. 

Thus  Enan  is  metamorphosed  from  a  public 
demon  into  something  of  a  domestic  saint.  Zabara 
gives  us  an  inverted  Faust. 

JOSEPH  RETURNS  HOME  TO  BARCELONA 

"  After  a  while,"  concludes  Joseph,  "  I  said  to 
him,  '  I  have  sojourned  long  enough  in  this  city,  the 

59 


"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 

ways  of  which  please  me  not.  Ignorance  prevails, 
and  poetry  is  unknown;  the  law  is  despised;  the 
young  are  set  over  the  old;  they  slander  and  are 
impudent.  Let  me  go  home  after  my  many  years 
of  wandering  in  a  strange  land.  Fain  would  I  seek 
the  place  where  dwells  the  great  prince,  Rabbi 
Sheshet  Benveniste,  of  whom  Wisdom  says,  Thou 
art  my  teacher,  and  Faith,  Thou  art  my  friend.' 
4  What  qualities,'  asked  Enan,  '  brought  him  to 
this  lofty  place  of  righteousness  and  power? ' 
'  His  simplicity  and  humility,  his  uprightness  and 
saintliness.'  ' 

And  with  this  eulogy  of  the  aged  Rabbi  of  Bar 
celona,  the  poem  somewhat  inconsequently  ends.  It 
may  be  that  the  author  left  the  work  without  putting 
in  the  finishing  touches.  This  would  account  for 
the  extra  stories,  which,  as  was  seen  above,  may 
belong  to  the  book,  though  not  incorporated  into  it. 

It  will  be  thought,  from  the  summary  mode  in 
which  I  have  rendered  these  stories,  that  I  take 
Zabara  to  be  rather  a  literary  curiosity  than  a  poet. 
But  Zabara's  poetical  merits  are  considerable.  If 
I  have  refrained  from  attempting  a  literal  render 
ing,  it  is  mainly  because  the  rhymed-prose  genre  is 
so  characteristically  Oriental  that  its  charm  is 
incommunicable  in  a  Western  language.  Hence, 

60 


"THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT" 

to  those  who  do  not  read  Zabara  in  the  original, 
he  is  more  easily  appreciated  as  a  conteur  than  as 
an  imaginative  writer.  To  the  Hebraist,  too, 
something  of  the  same  remark  applies.  Rhymed 
prose  is  not  much  more  consistent  with  the  genius 
of  Hebrew  than  it  is  with  the  genius  of  English. 
Arabic  and  Persian  seem  the  only  languages  in 
which  rhymed  prose  assumes  a  natural  and  melodi 
ous  shape.  In  the  new-Hebrew,  rhymed  prose  has 
always  been  an  exotic,  never  quite  a  native  flower. 
The  most  skilful  gardeners  failed  to  acclimatize  it 
thoroughly  in  European  soil.  Yet  Zabara's  hu 
mor,  his  fluent  simplicity,  his  easy  mastery  over 
Hebrew,  his  invention,  his  occasional  gleams  of 
fancy,  his  gift  of  satire,  his  unfailing  charm,  com 
bine  to  give  his  poem  some  right  to  the  title  by 
which  he  called  it—"  The  Book  of  Delight." 

[Notes,  pp.  301-302] 


61 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

Of  a  land  where  every  stone  has  its  story,  it  can 
hardly  be  asserted  that  any  one  place  has  a  fuller 
tale  to  tell  than  another.  But  Hebron  has  a  pe 
culiar  old-world  charm  as  the  home  of  the  founder 
of  the  Hebrew  race.  Moreover,  one's  youthful 
imagination  associates  Hebron  with  the  giants,  the 
sons  of  Anak,  sons,  that  is,  of  the  long  neck;  men 
of  Arba,  with  broad,  square  shoulders.  A  sight  of 
the  place  itself  revives  this  memory.  Ancient  He 
bron  stood  higher  than  the  present  city,  but  as 
things  now  are,  though  the  hills  of  Judea  reach 
their  greatest  elevation  in  the  neighborhood,  He 
bron  itself  rests  in  a  valley.  Most  towns  in  Pales 
tine  are  built  on  hills,  but  Hebron  lies  low.  Yet 
the  surrounding  hills  are  thirty-two  hundred  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  five  hun 
dred  feet  higher  than  Mount  Olivet.  For  this 
reason  Hebron  is  ideally  placed  for  conveying  an 
impression  of  the  mountainous  character  of  Judea. 
In  Jerusalem  you  are  twenty-six  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea,  but,  being  high  up,  you  scarcely  realize  that 

62 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

you  are  in  a  mountain  city.  The  hills  about  Hebron 
tower  loftily  above  you,  and  seem  a  fitting  abode 
for  the  giants  whom  Joshua  and  Caleb  overthrew. 
Hebron,  from  yet  another  point  of  view,  recalls 
its  old-world  associations.  Not  only  is  Hebron  one 
of  the  oldest  cities  in  the  world  still  inhabited,  but 
it  has  been  far  less  changed  by  Western  influences 
than  other  famous  places.  Hebron  is  almost  en 
tirely  unaffected  by  Christian  influence.  In  the 
East,  Christian  influence  more  or  less  means  Euro 
pean  influence,  but  Hebron  is  still  completely  Ori 
ental.  It  is  a  pity  that  modern  travellers  no  longer 
follow  the  ancient  route  which  passed  from  Egypt 
along  the  coast  to  Gaza,  and  then  struck  eastwards 
to  Hebron.  By  this  route,  the  traveller  would 
come  upon  Judea  in  its  least  modernized  aspect. 
He  would  find  in  Hebron  a  city  without  a  hotel, 
and  unblessed  by  an  office  of  the  Monarch  of  the 
East,  Mr.  Cook.  There  are  no  modern  schools  in 
Hebron ;  the  only  institution  of  the  kind,  the  Mild- 
may  Mission  School,  had  scarcely  any  pupils  at  the 
time  of  my  visit.  This  is  but  another  indication 
of  the  slight  effect  that  European  forces  are  pro 
ducing;  the  most  useful,  so  far,  has  been  the  medi 
cal  mission  of  the  United  Free  Church  of  Scotland. 
But  Hebron  has  been  little  receptive  of  the  educa- 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

tional  and  sanitary  boons  that  are  the  chief  good 
— and  it  is  a  great  good — derived  from  the  Euro 
pean  missions  in  the  East.  I  am  almost  reluctant 
to  tell  the  truth,  as  I  must,  of  Hebron,  and  point 
out  the  pitiful  plight  of  our  brethren  there,  lest, 
perchance,  some  philanthropists  set  about  mending 
the  evil,  to  the  loss  of  the  primitiveness  in  which 
Hebron  at  present  revels.  This  is  the  pity  of  it. 
When  you  employ  a  modern  broom  to  sweep  away 
the  dirt  of  an  ancient  city,  your  are  apt  to  remove 
something  else  as  well  as  the  dirt. 

Besides  its  low  situation  and  its  primitiveness, 
Hebron  has  a  third  peculiarity.  Go  where  one  may 
in  Judea,  the  ancient  places,  even  when  still  inhab 
ited,  wear  a  ruined  look.  Zion  itself  is  scarcely 
an  exception.  Despite  its  fifty  thousand  inhabi 
tants,  Jerusalem  has  a  decayed  appearance,  for  the 
newest  buildings  often  look  like  ruins.  The  cause 
of  this  is  that  many  structures  are  planned  on  a 
bigger  scale  than  can  be  executed,  and  thus  are  left 
permanently  unfinished,  or  like  the  windmill  of  Sir 
Moses  are  disused  from  their  very  birth.  Hebron, 
in  this  respect  again,  is  unlike  the  other  cities  of 
Judea.  It  had  few  big  buildings,  hence  it  has  few 
big  ruins.  There  are  some  houses  of  two  stories 
in  which  the  upper  part  has  never  been  completed, 

64 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

but  the  houses  are  mostly  of  one  story,  with  par 
tially  flat  and  partially  domed  roofs.  The  domes 
are  the  result  both  of  necessity  and  design;  of  ne 
cessity,  because  of  the  scarcity  of  large  beams  for 
rafters;  of  design,  because  the  dome  enables  the 
rain  to  collect  in  a  groove,  or  channel,  whence  it 
sinks  into  a  reservoir. 

Hebron,  then,  produces  a  favorable  impression 
on  the  whole.  It  is  green  and  living,  its  hills  are 
clad  with  vines,  with  plantations  of  olives,  pome 
granates,  figs,  quinces,  and  apricots.  Nowhere  in 
Judea,  except  in  the  Jordan  valley,  is  there  such  an 
abundance  of  water.  In  the  neighborhood  of  He 
bron,  there  are  twenty-five  springs,  ten  large  per 
ennial  wells,  and  several  splendid  pools.  Still,  as 
when  the  huge  cluster  was  borne  on  two  men's 
shoulders  from  Eshkol,  the  best  vines  of  Palestine 
grow  in  and  around  Hebron.  The  only  large  struc 
ture  in  the  city,  the  mosque  which  surmounts  the 
Cave  of  Machpelah,  is  in  excellent  repair,  espe 
cially  since  1894-5,  when  the  Jewish  lads  from  the 
Alliance  school  of  Jerusalem  renewed  the  iron 
gates  within,  and  supplied  fresh  rails  to  the  so- 
called  sarcophagi  of  the  Patriarchs.  The  ancient 
masonry  built  round  the  cave  by  King  Herod,  the 
stones  of  which  exactly  resemble  the  masonry  of 
6  65 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

the  Wailing  Place  in  Jerusalem,  still  stands  in  its 
massive  strength. 

I  have  said  that  Hebron  ought  to  be  approached 
from  the  South  or  West.  The  modern  traveller, 
however,  reaches  it  from  the  North.  You  leave 
Jerusalem  by  the  Jaffa  gate,  called  by  the  Moham 
medans  Bab  el-Khalil,  I.  e.  Hebron  gate.  The 
Mohammedans  call  Hebron  el-Khalil,  City  of  the 
Friend  of  God,  a  title  applied  to  Abraham  both  in 
Jewish  and  Mohammedan  tradition.  Some,  in 
deed,  derive  the  name  Hebron  from  Chaber,  com 
rade  or  friend;  but  Hebron  may  mean  "  confedera 
tion  of  cities,"  just  as  its  other  name,  Kiriath-arba, 
may  possibly  mean  Tetrapolis.  The  distance  from 
Jerusalem  to  Hebron  depends  upon  the  views  of 
the  traveller.  You  can  easily  get  to  Hebron  in 
four  hours  and  a  half  by  the  new  carriage  road, 
but  the  distance,  though  less  than  twenty  miles, 
took  me  fourteen  hours,  from  five  in  the  morning 
till  seven  at  night.  Most  travellers  turn  aside  to 
the  left  to  see  the  Pools  of  Solomon,  and  the  grave 
of  Rachel  lies  on  the  right  of  the  highroad  itself. 
It  is  a  modern  building  with  a  dome,  and  the  most 
affecting  thing  is  the  rough-hewn  block  of  stone 
worn  smooth  by  the  lips  of  weeping  women.  On 
the  opposite  side  of  the  road  is  Tekoah,  the  birth- 

66 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

place  of  Amos;  before  you  reach  it,  five  miles  more 
to  the  north,  you  get  a  fine  glimpse  also  of  Bethle 
hem,  the  White  City,  cleanest  of  Judean  settle 
ments.  Travellers  tell  you  that  the  rest  of  the  road 
is  uninteresting.  I  did  not  find  it  so.  For  the 
motive  of  my  journey  was  just  to  see  those  "  un 
interesting"  sites,  Beth-zur,  where  Judas  Maccabeus 
won  such  a  victory  that  he  was  able  to  rededicate  the 
Temple,  and  Beth-zacharias,  through  whose  broad 
valley-roads  the  Syrian  elephants  wound  their 
heavy  way,  to  drive  Judas  back  on  his  precarious 
base  at  the  capital. 

It  is  somewhat  curious  that  this  indifference  to 
the  Maccabean  sites  is  not  restricted  to  Christian 
tourists.  For,  though  several  Jewish  travellers 
passed  from  Jerusalem  to  Hebron  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  none  of  them  mentions  the  Maccabean  sites, 
none  of  them  spares  a  tear  or  a  cheer  for  Judas 
Maccabeus.  They  were  probably  absorbed  in  the 
memory  of  the  Patriarchs  and  of  King  David,  the 
other  and  older  names  identified  with  this  district. 
Medieval  fancy,  besides,  was  too  busy  with  peo 
pling  Hebron  with  myths  to  waste  itself  on  sober 
facts.  Hebron,  according  to  a  very  old  notion,  was 
the  place  where  Adam  and  Eve  lived  after  their 
expulsion  from  Eden;  it  was  from  Hebron's  red 

67 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

earth  that  the  first  man  was  made.  The  Pirke  di 
Rabbi  Eliezer  relate,  that  when  the  three  angels 
visited  Abraham,  and  he  went  to  get  a  lamb  for 
their  meal,  the  animal  fled  into  a  cave.  Abraham 
followed  it,  and  saw  Adam  and  Eve  lying  asleep, 
with  lamps  burning  by  their  -tombs,  and  a  sweet 
savor,  as  of  incense,  emanating  from  the  dead 
father  and  mother  of  human-kind.  Abraham  con 
ceived  a  love  for  the  Cave,  and  hence  desired  it  for 
Sarah's  resting-place. 

I  suppose  that  some  will  hold,  that  we  are  not 
on  surer  historical  ground  when  we  come  to  the 
Biblical  statement  that  connects  Abraham  with  He 
bron.  Before  arguing  whether  Abraham  lived  in 
Hebron,  and  was  buried  in  Machpelah,  one  ought 
to  prove  that  Abraham  ever  lived  at  all,  to  be 
buried  anywhere.  But  I  shall  venture  to  take 
Abraham's  real  existence  for  granted,  as  I  am  not 
one  of  those  who  think  that  a  statement  must  be 
false  because  it  is  made  in  the  Book  of  Genesis. 
That  there  was  a  very  ancient  shrine  in  Hebron, 
that  the  great  Tree  of  Mamre  was  the  abode  of  a 
local  deity,  may  be  conceded,  but  to  my  mind  there 
is  no  more  real  figure  in  history  than  Abraham. 
Especially  when  one  compares  the  modern  legends 
with  the  Biblical  story  does  the  substantial  truth  of 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

the  narrative  in  Genesis  manifest  itself.  The  nar 
rative  may  contain  elements  of  folk  poetry,  but  the 
hero  Abraham  is  a  genuine  personality. 

As  I  have  mentioned  the  tree,  it  may  be  as  well 
to  add  at  once  that  Abraham's  Oak  is  still  shown 
at  Hebron,  and  one  can  well  imagine  how  it  was 
thought  that  this  magnificent  terebinth  dated 
from  Bible  times.  A  few  years  ago  it  was  a  fresh, 
vigorous  giant,  but  now  it  is  quite  decayed.  The 
ruin  began  in  1853,  when  a  large  branch  was 
broken  off  by  the  weight  of  the  snow.  Twelve 
years  ago  the  Russian  Archimandrite  of  Jerusalem 
purchased  the  land  on  which  the  tree  stands,  and 
naturally  he  took  much  care  of  the  relic.  In  fact, 
he  took  too  much  care,  for  some  people  think  that 
the  low  wall  which  the  Russians  erected  as  a  safe 
guard  round  the  Oak,  has  been  the  cause  of  the 
rapid  decay  that  has  since  set  in.  Year  by  year  the 
branches  have  dropped  off,  the  snow  and  the  light 
ning  have  had  their  victims.  It  is  said  that  only 
two  or  three  years  ago  one  branch  towards  the 
East  was  still  living,  but  when  I  saw  it,  the  trunk 
was  bare  and  bark-less,  full  of  little  worm-holes, 
and  quite  without  a  spark  of  vitality.  The  last 
remaining  fragment  has  since  fallen,  and  now  the 
site  of  the  tree  is  only  marked  by  the  row  of  young 

69 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

cypresses  which  have  been  planted  in  a  circle  round 
the  base  of  the  Oak  of  Mamre.  But  who  shall 
prophesy  that,  a  century  hence,  a  tree  will  not  have 
acquired  sufficient  size  and  antiquity  to  be  foisted 
upon  uncritical  pilgrims  as  the  veritable  tree  under 
which  Father  Abraham  dwelt ! 

The  Jewish  tradition  does  not  quite  agree  with 
the  view  that  identified  this  old  tree  with  Mamre. 
According  to  Jewish  tradition,  the  Tree  is  at  the 
ruins  of  Ramet  el-Khalil,  the  High  Place  of  the 
Friend,  i.  e.  of  Abraham,  about  two  miles  nearer 
Jerusalem.  Mr.  Shaw  Caldecott  has  propounded 
the  theory  that  this  site  is  Samuel's  Ramah,  and 
that  the  vast  ruins  of  a  stone-walled  enclosure  here 
represent  the  enclosure  within  which  Samuel's  altar 
stood.  The  Talmud  has  it  that  Abraham  erected 
a  guest-house  for  the  entertainment  of  strangers 
near  the  Grove  of  Mamre.  There  were  doors  on 
every  side,  so  that  the  traveller  found  a  welcome 
from  whichever  direction  he  came.  There  our 
father  made  the  name  of  God  proclaimed  at  the 
mouth  of  all  wayfarers.  How?  After  they  had 
eaten  and  refreshed  themselves,  they  rose  to  thank 
him.  Abraham  answered,  "  Was  the  food  mine? 
It  is  the  bounty  of  the  Creator  of  the  Universe." 
Then  they  praised,  glorified,  and  blessed  Him  who 
spake  and  the  world  was. 

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A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

We  are  on  the  road  now  near  Hebron,  but,  be 
fore  entering,  let  us  recall  a  few  incidents  in  its 
history.  After  the  Patriarchal  age,  Hebron  was 
noted  as  the  possession  of  Caleb.  It  also  figures  as 
a  priestly  city  and  as  one  of  the  cities  of  refuge. 
David  passed  much  of  his  life  here,  and,  after 
Saul's  death,  Hebron  was  the  seat  of  David's  rule 
over  Judea.  Abner  was  slain  here  by  Joab,  and 
was  buried  here — they  still  show  Abner's  tomb  in 
the  garden  of  a  large  house  within  the  city.  By  the 
pool  at  Hebron  were  slain  the  murderers  of  Ish- 
bosheth,  and  here  Absalom  assumed  the  throne. 
After  his  time  we  hear  less  of  Hebron.  Jerusalem 
overshadowed  it  in  importance,  yet  we  have  one 
or  two  mentions.  Rehoboam  strengthened  the 
town,  and  from  a  stray  reference  in  Nehemiah,  wre 
gather  that  the  place  long  continued  to  be  called 
by  its  older  name  of  Kiriath  Arba.  For  a  long 
period  after  the  return  from  the  Exile  Hebron  be 
longed  to  the  Idumeans.  It  was  the  scene  of  war 
fare  in  the  Maccabean  period,  and  also  during  the 
rebellion  against  Rome.  In  the  market-place  at 
Hebron,  Hadrian  sold  numbers  of  Jewish  slaves 
after  the  fall  of  Bar-Cochba,  in  135  c.  E.  In  the 
twelfth  century  Hebron  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
Christian  Crusaders.  The  fief  of  Hebron,  or,  as 

71 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

it  was  called,  of  Saint  Abraham,  extended  south 
wards  to  Beer-sheba.  A  bishopric  was  founded 
there  in  1169,  but  was  abandoned  twenty  years 
later. 

We  hear  of  many  pilgrims  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
The  Christians  used  to  eat  some  of  the  red  earth 
of  Hebron,  the  earth  from  which  Adam  was  made. 
On  Sunday  the  seventeenth  of  October,  1 165,  Mai- 
monides  was  in  Hebron,  passing  the  city  on  his 
way  from  Jerusalem  to  Cairo.  Obadiah  of  Berti- 
noro,  in  1488,  took  Hebron  on  the  reverse  route. 
He  went  from  Egypt  across  the  desert  to  Gaza, 
and,  though  he  travelled  all  day,  did  not  reach 
Hebron  from  Gaza  till  the  second  morning.  If 
the  text  is  correct,  David  Reubeni  was  four  days 
in  traversing  the  same  road,  a  distance  of  about 
thirty-three  miles.  To  revert  to  an  earlier  time, 
Nachmanides  very  probably  visited  Hebron.  In 
deed,  his  grave  is  shown  to  the  visitor.  But  this 
report  is  inaccurate.  He  wrote  to  his  son,  in  1267, 
from  Jerusalem,  "  Now  I  intend  to  go  to  Hebron, 
to  the  sepulchre  of  our  ancestors,  to  prostrate  my 
self,  and  there  to  dig  my  grave."  But  he  must 
have  altered  his  mind  in  the  last-named  particular, 
for  his  tomb  is  most  probably  in  Acre. 

I  need  not  go  through  the  list  of  distinguished 
72 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

visitors  to  Hebron.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  in  the 
fourteenth  century  there  was  a  large  and  flourish 
ing  community  of  Jews  in  the  town;  they  were 
weavers  and  dyers  of  cotton  stuffs  and  glass- 
makers,  and  the  Rabbi  was  often  himself  a  shep 
herd  in  the  literal  sense,  teaching  the  Torah  while 
at  work  in  the  fields.  He  must  have  felt  embar 
rassed  sometimes  between  his  devotion  to  his  meta 
phorical  and  to  his  literal  flock.  When  I  was  at 
Moza,  I  was  talking  over  some  Biblical  texts  with 
Mr.  David  Yellin,  who  was  with  me.  The  colo 
nists  endured  this  for  a  while,  but  at  last  they  broke 
into  open  complaint.  One  of  the  colonists  said  to 
me:  "  It  is  true  that  the  Mishnah  forbids  you  to 
turn  aside  from  the  Torah  to  admire  a  tree,  but  you 
have  come  all  the  way  from  Europe  to  admire  my 
trees.  Leave  the  Torah  alone  for  the  present." 
I  felt  that  he  was  right,  and  wondered  how  the 
Shepherd  Rabbis  of  Hebron  managed  in  similar 
circumstances. 

In  the  century  of  which  I  am  speaking,  the  He 
bron  community  consisted  entirely  of  Sefardim, 
and  it  was  not  till  the  sixteenth  century  that  Ash- 
kenazim  settled  there  in  large  numbers.  I  have 
already  mentioned  the  visit  of  David  Reubeni.  He 
was  in  Hebron  in  1523,  when  he  entered  the  Cave 

73 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

of  Machpelah  on  March  tenth,  at  noon.  It  is  of 
interest  to  note  that  his  account  of  the  Cave  agrees 
fully  with  that  of  Conder.  It  is  now  quite  certain 
that  he  was  really  there  in  person,  and  his  narrative 
was  not  made  up  at  second  hand.  The  visit  of 
Reubeni,  as  well  as  Sabbatai  Zebi's,  gave  new 
vogue  to  the  place.  When  Sabbatai  was  there,  a 
little  before  the  year  1666,  the  Jews  were  awake 
and  up  all  night,  so  as  not  to  lose  an  instant  of  the 
sacred  intercourse  with  the  Messiah.  But  the 
journey  to  Hebron  was  not  popular  till  our  own 
days.  It  was  too  dangerous,  the  Hebron  natives  en 
joying  a  fine  reputation  for  ferocity  and  brigand 
age.  An  anonymous  Hebrew  writer  writes  from 
Jerusalem  in  1495,  that  a  few  days  before  a  Jew 
from  Hebron  had  been  waylaid  and  robbed.  But 
he  adds:  "  I  hear  that  on  Passover  some  Jews 
are  coming  here  from  Egypt  and  Damascus,  with 
the  intention  of  also  visiting  Hebron.  I  shall  go 
with  them,  if  I  am  still  alive." 

In  Baedeker,  Hebron  is  still  given  a  bad  charac 
ter,  the  Muslims  of  the  place  being  called  fanatical 
and  violent.  I  cannot  confirm  this  verdict.  The 
children  throw  stones  at  you,  but  they  take  good 
care  not  to  hit.  As  I  have  already  pointed  out, 
Hebron  is  completely  non-Christian,  just  as  Beth- 

74 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

lehem  is  completely  non-Mohammedan.  The 
Crescent  is  very  disinclined  to  admit  the  Cross  into 
Hebron,  the  abode  of  Abraham,  a  name  far  more 
honored  by  Jews  and  Mohammedans  than  by 
Christians. 

It  is  not  quite  just  to  call  the  Hebronites  fanati 
cal  and  sullen;  they  really  only  desire  to  hold  He 
bron  as  their  own.  "  Hebron  for  the  Hebronites  " 
is  their  cry.  The  road,  at  all  events,  is  quite  safe. 
One  of  the  surprises  of  Palestine  is  the  huge  traffic 
along  the  main  roads.  Orientals  not  only  make  a 
great  bustle  about  what  they  do,  but  they  really  are 
very  busy  people.  Along  the  roads  you  meet 
masses  of  passengers,  people  on  foot,  on  mules  and 
horses,  on  camels,  in  wheeled  vehicles.  You  come 
across  groups  of  pilgrims,  with  one  mule  to  the 
party,  carrying  the  party's  goods,  the  children  al 
ways  barefooted  and  bareheaded — the  latter  fact 
making  you  realize  how  the  little  boy  in  the  Bible 
story  falling  sick  in  the  field  exclaimed  "  My 
head,  my  head !  "  Besides  the  pilgrims,  there  are 
the  bearers  of  goods  and  produce.  You  see  don 
keys  carrying  large  stones  for  building,  one  stone 
over  each  saddle.  If  you  are  as  lucky  as  I  was,  you 
may  see  a  runaway  camel  along  the  Hebron  road, 
scouring  alone  at  break-neck  speed,  with  laughter- 
producing  gait. 

75 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

Of  Hebron  itself  I  saw  little  as  I  entered,  because 
I  arrived  towards  sunset,  and  only  had  time  to 
notice  that  everyone  in  the  streets  carried  a  lan 
tern.  In  Jerusalem  only  the  women  carry  lights, 
but  in  Hebron  men  had  them  as  well.  I  wondered 
where  I  was  to  pass  the  night.  Three  friends  had 
accompanied  me  from  Jerusalem,  and  they  told  me 
not  to  worry,  as  we  could  stay  at  the  Jewish  doc 
tor's.  It  seemed  to  me  a  cool  piece  of  impudence 
to  billet  a  party  on  a  man  whose  name  had  been  pre 
viously  unknown  to  me,  but  the  result  proved  that 
they  were  right.  The  doctor  welcomed  us  right 
heartily;  he  said  that  it  was  a  joy  to  entertain  us. 
Now  it  was  that  one  saw  the  advantages  of  the 
Oriental  architecture.  The  chief  room  in  an  East 
ern  house  is  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  a  wide 
stone  or  wooden  divan,  which,  in  wealthy  houses, 
is  richly  upholstered.  The  Hebron  doctor  was  not 
rich,  but  there  was  the  same  divan  covered  with  a 
bit  of  chintz.  On  it  one  made  one's  bed,  hard,  it  is 
true,  but  yet  a  bed.  You  always  take  your  rugs 
with  you  for  covering  at  night,  you  put  your  port 
manteau  under  your  head  as  a  pillow,  and  there  you 
are !  You  may  rely  upon  one  thing.  People  who, 
on  their  return  from  Palestine,  tell  you  that  they 
had  a  comfortable  trip,  have  seen  nothing  of  the 

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A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

real  life  of  the  country.  To  do  that  you  must 
rough  it,  as  I  did  both  at  Modin  and  at  Hebron. 
To  return  to  the  latter.  The  rooms  have  stone 
floors  and  vaulted  roofs,  the  children  walk  about 
with  wooden  shoes,  and  the  pitter-patter  makes  a 
pleasant  music.  They  throw  off  the  shoes  as  they 
enter  the  room.  My  host  had  been  in  Hebron  for 
six  years,  and  he  told  me  overnight  what  I  observed 
for  myself  next  day,  that,  considering  the  fearful 
conditions  under  which  the  children  live,  there  is 
comparatively  little  sickness.  As  for  providing 
meals,  a  genuine  communism  prevails.  You  pro 
duce  your  food,  your  host  adds  his  store,  and  you 
partake  in  common  of  the  feast  to  which  both  sides 
contribute.  After  a  good  long  talk,  I  got  to  sleep 
easily,  thinking,  as  I  dozed  off,  that  I  should  pass  a 
pleasant  night.  I  had  become  impervious  to  the 
mosquitoes,  but  there  was  something  else  which  I 
had  forgotten.  Was  it  a  dream,  an  awful  night 
mare,  or  had  a  sudden  descent  of  Bedouins  oc 
curred?  Gradually  I  was  awakened  by  a  noise  as 
of  wild  beasts  let  loose,  howls  of  rage  and  calls  to 
battle.  It  was  only  the  dogs.  In  Jerusalem  I  had 
never  heard  them,  as  the  Jewish  hotel  was  then 
well  out  of  the  town;  it  has  since  been  moved 
nearer  In.  It  is  impossible  to  convey  a  sense  of  the 

77 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

terrifying  effect  produced  by  one's  first  experience 
of  the  night  orgies  of  Oriental  dogs,  it  curdles  your 
blood  to  recall  it.  Seen  by  daytime,  the  dogs  are 
harmless  enough,  as  they  go  about  their  scavenger 
work  among  the  heaps  of  refuse  and  filth.  But  by 
night  they  are  howling  demons,  stampeding  about 
the  streets  in  mad  groups,  barking  to  and  at  each 
other,  whirling  piteously  one  moment,  roaring 
hoarsely  and  snapping  fiercely  another. 

The  dogs  did  me  one  service,  they  made  me  get 
up  early.  I  walked  through  a  bluish-gray  atmos 
phere.  Colors  in  Judea  are  bright,  yet  there  is 
always  an  effect  as  of  a  thin  gauze  veil  over  them. 
I  went,  then,  into  the  streets,  and  at  five  o'clock  the 
sun  was  high,  and  the  bustle  of  the  place  had  be 
gun.  The  air  was  keen  and  fresh,  and  many  were 
already  abroad.  I  saw  some  camels  start  for  Jeru 
salem,  laden  with  straw  mats  made  in  Hebron. 
Next  went  some  asses  carrying  poultry  for  the  Holy 
City,  then  a  family  caravan  with  its  inevitable 
harem  of  closely  veiled  women.  Then  I  saw  a  man 
with  tools  for  hewing  stone,  camels  coming  into 
Hebron,  a  boy  with  a  large  petroleum  can  going 
to  fetch  water, — they  are  abandoning  the  use  of 
the  olden  picturesque  stone  pitchers, — then  I  saw 
asses  loaded  with  vine  twigs,  one  with  lime,  women 

73 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

with  black  dresses  and  long  white  veils,  boys  with 
bent  backs  carrying  iron  stones.  I  saw,  too,  some 
Bethlehemite  Christians  hurrying  home  to  the  tra 
ditional  site  of  the  nativity.  You  can  always  dis 
tinguish  these,  for  they  are  the  only  Christians  in 
Palestine  that  wear  turbans  habitually.  And  all 
over  the  landscape  dominated  the  beautiful  green 
hills,  fresh  with  the  morning  dew,  a  dew  so  thick 
that  I  had  what  I  had  not  expected,  a  real  morning 
bath.  I  was  soaked  quite  wet  by  the  time  I  re 
turned  from  my  solitary  stroll.  I  had  a  capital 
breakfast,  for  which  we  supplied  the  solids,  and  our 
host  the  coffee.  Butter  is  a  luxury  which  we.neither 
expected  nor  got.  Hebron,  none  the  less,  seemed 
to  me  a  Paradise,  and  I  applauded  the  legend  that 
locates  Adam  and  Eve  in  this  spot. 

Alas !  I  had  not  yet  seen  Hebron.  The  doctor 
lived  on  the  outskirts  near  the  highroad,  where 
there  are  many  fine  and  beautiful  residences.  I  was 
soon  to  enter  the  streets  and  receive  a  rude  awaken 
ing,  when  I  saw  the  manner  in  which  the  fifteen 
hundred  Jews  of  Hebron  live.  Hebron  is  a  ghetto 
in  a  garden ;  it  is  worse  than  even  Jerusalem,  Jeru 
salem  being  clean  in  comparison.  Dirty,  dark,  nar 
row,  vaulted,  unevenly  paved,  running  with  liquid 
slime — such  are  the  streets  of  Hebron.  You  are 

79 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

constantly  in  danger  of  slipping,  unless  you  wear 
the  flat,  heel-less  Eastern  shoes,  and,  if  you  once 
fell,  not  all  the  perfumes  of  Araby  could  make  you 
sweet  again. 

I  should  say  that,  before  starting  on  my  round, 
I  had  to  secure  the  attendance  of  soldiers.  Not 
that  it  was  necessary,  but  they  utilize  Baedeker's 
assertion,  that  the  people  are  savage,  to  get  fees 
out  of  visitors — a  cunning  manner  of  turning  the 
enemy's  libels  to  profitable  account.  I  hired  two 
soldiers,  but  one  by  one  others  joined  my  train,  so 
that  by  the  time  my  tour  was  over,  I  had  a  whole 
regiment  of  guardians,  all  demanding  baksheesh. 
I  would  only  deal  with  the  leader,  a  ragged  war 
rior  with  two  daggers,  a  sword,  and  a  rifle.  "  How 
much?  "  I  asked.  "  We  usually  ask  a  napoleon 
(i.  e.  20  francs)  for  an  escort,  but  we  will  charge 
you  only  ten  francs."  I  turned  to  the  doctor 
and  asked  him,  "  How  much?  "  "  Give  them  a 
beslik  between  them,"  he  said.  A  beslik  is  only 
five  pence.  I  offered  it  in  trepidation,  but  the  sum 
satisfied  the  whole  gang,  who  thanked  me  pro 
fusely. 

First  I  visited  the  prison,  a  sort  of  open  air  cage, 
in  which  about  a  dozen  men  were  smoking  cigar 
ettes.  The  prison  was  much  nicer  than  the  Mo- 

80 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

hammedan  school  close  by.  This  was  a  small 
overcrowded  room,  with  no  window  in  it,  the  little 
boys  sitting  on  the  ground,  swaying  with  a  sleepy 
chant.  The  teacher's  only  function  was  repre 
sented  by  his  huge  cane,  which  he  plied  often  and 
skilfully.  Outside  the  door  was  a  barber  shaving 
a  pilgrim's  head.  The  pilgrim  was  a  Muslim, 
going  on  the  Haj  to  Mecca.  These  pilgrims  are 
looked  on  with  mingled  feelings;  their  piety  is  ad 
mired,  but  also  distrusted.  A  local  saying  is,  "  If 
thy  neighbor  has  been  on  the  Haj,  beware  of  him; 
if  he  has  been  twice,  have  no  dealings  with  him;  if 
he  has  been  thrice,  move  into  another  street." 
After  the  pilgrim,  I  passed  a  number  of  blind 
weavers,  working  before  large  wooden  frames. 

But  now  for  the  Jewish  quarter.  This  is  entered 
by  a  low  wooden  door,  at  which  we  had  to  knock 
and  then  stoop  to  get  in.  The  Jews  are  no  longer 
forced  to  have  this  door,  but  they  retain  it  volun 
tarily.  Having  got  in,  we  were  in  a  street  so  dark 
that  we  could  not  see  a  foot  before  us,  but  we  kept 
moving,  and  soon  came  to  a  slightly  better  place, 
where  the  sun  crept  through  in  fitful  gleams.  The 
oldest  synagogue  was  entered  first.  Its  flooring 
was  of  marble  squares,  its  roof  vaulted,  and  its 
Ark  looked  north  towards  Jerusalem.  There  were, 
6  81 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

as  so  often  in  the  East,  two  Arks ;  when  one  is  too 
small,  they  do  not  enlarge  it,  but  build  another. 
The  Sefardic  Talmud  Torah  is  a  small  room 
without  window  or  ventilation,  the  only  light  and 
air  enter  by  the  door.  The  children  were  huddled 
together  on  an  elevated  wooden  platform.  They 
could  read  Hebrew  fluently,  and  most  of  them 
spoke  Arabic.  The  German  children  speak  Yid 
dish;  the  custom  of  using  Hebrew  as  a  living  lan 
guage  has  not  spread  here  so  much  as  in  Jaffa  and 
the  colonies.  The  Beth  ha-Midrash  for  older  chil 
dren  was  a  little  better  equipped;  it  had  a  stone 
floor,  but  the  pupils  reclined  on  couches  round  the 
walls.  They  learn  very  little  of  what  we  should 
call  secular  subjects.  I  examined  the  store  of  manu 
scripts,  but  Professor  Schechter  had  been  before 
me,  and  there  was  nothing  left  but  modern  Cab 
balistic  literature.  The  other  synagogue  is  small, 
and  very  bare  of  ornament.  The  Rabbi  was  seated 
there,  "  learning,"  with  great  Tefillin  and  Tallith 
on — a  fine,  simple,  benevolent  soul.  To  my  sur 
prise  he  spoke  English,  and  turned  out  to  be  none 
other  than  Rachmim  Joseph  Franco,  who,  as  long 
ago  as  1851,  when  the  earthquake  devastated  the 
Jewish  quarter,  had  been  sent  from  Rhodes  to  col 
lect  relief  funds.  He  was  very  ailing,  and  I  could 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

not  have  a  long  conversation  with  him,  but  he  told 
me  that  he  had  known  my  father,  who  was  then  a 
boy,  in  London.  Then  I  entered  a  typical  Jewish 
dwelling  of  the  poor.  It  consisted  of  a  single 
room,  opening  on  to  the  dark  street,  and  had  a 
tiny  barred  window  at  the  other  side.  On  the 
left  was  a  broad  bed,  on  the  right  a  rude  cooking 
stove  and  a  big  water  pitcher.  There  was  nothing 
else  in  the  room,  except  a  deep  stagnant  mud  pool, 
which  filled  the  centre  of  the  floor. 

Next  door  they  were  baking  Matzoth  in  an 
oven  fed  by  a  wood  fire.  It  was  a  few  days  before 
Passover.  The  Matzoth  were  coarse,  and  had 
none  of  the  little  holes  with  which  we  are  familiar. 
So  through  streets  within  streets,  dirt  within  dirt, 
room  over  room,  in  hopeless  intricacy.  Then  we 
were  brought  to  a  standstill,  a  man  was  coming 
down  the  street  with  a  bundle  of  wood,  and  we  had 
to  wait  till  he  had  gone  by,  the  streets  being  too 
narrow  for  two  persons  to  pass  each  other.  An 
other  street  was  impassable  for  a  different  reason, 
there  was  quite  a  river  of  flowing  mud,  knee  deep. 
I  asked  for  a  boat,  but  a  man  standing  by  hoisted 
me  on  his  shoulders,  and  carried  me  across,  himself 
wading  through  it  with  the  same  unconcern  as  the 
boys  and  girls  were  wallowing  in  it,  playing  and 

§3 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

amusing  themselves.     How  alike  children  are  all 
the  world  over! 

And  yet,  with  it  all,  Hebron  is  a  healthy  place. 
There  is  little  of  the  intermittent  fever  prevalent 
in  other  parts  of  Palestine;  illness  is  common,  but 
not  in  a  bad  form.  Jerusalem  is  far  more  un 
healthy,  because  of  the  lack  of  water.  But  the 
Jews  of  Hebron  are  miserably  poor.  How  they 
live  is  a  mystery.  They  are  not  allowed  to  own 
land,  even  if  they  could  acquire  it.  There  was  once 
a  little  business  to  be  done  in  lending  money  to  the 
Arabs,  but  as  the  Government  refuses  to  help  in 
the  collection  of  debts,  this  trade  is  not  flourishing, 
and  a  good  thing,  too.  There  are,  of  course,  some 
industries.  First  there  is  the  wine.  I  saw  nothing 
of  the  vintage,  as  my  visit  was  in  the  spring,  but  I 
tasted  the  product  and  found  it  good.  The  Arab 
vine-owners  sell  the  grapes  to  Jews,  who  extract  the 
juice.  Still  there  is  room  for  enterprise  here,  and 
it  is  regrettable  that  few  seem  to  think  of  Hebron 
when  planning  the  regeneration  of  Judea.  True, 
I  should  regret  the  loss  of  primitiveness  here,  as  I 
said  at  the  outset,  but  when  the  lives  of  men  are 
concerned,  esthetics  must  go  to  the  wall.  The  Jew 
ish  quarter  was  enlarged  in  1875,  but  it  is  still  in 
adequate.  The  Society  Lemaan  Zion  has  done 

84 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

a  little  to  introduce  modern  education,  but  neither 
the  Alliance  nor  the  Anglo- Jewish  Association  has 
a  school  here.  Lack  of  means  prevents  the  neces 
sary  efforts  from  being  made.  Most  deplorable  is 
the  fact  connected  with  the  hospital.  In  a  beautiful 
sunlit  road  above  the  mosque,  amid  olive  groves,  is 
the  Jewish  hospital,  ready  for  use,  well-built,  but 
though  the  very  beds  were  there  when  I  saw  it,  no 
patients  could  be  received,  as  there  were  no  funds. 
The  Jewish  doctor  was  doing  a  wonderful  work. 
He  had  exiled  himself  from  civilized  life,  as  we 
Westerns  understand  it;  his  children  had  no  school 
to  which  to  go;  he  felt  himself  stagnating,  without 
intellectual  intercourse  with  his  equals,  yet  active, 
kindly,  uncomplaining — one  of  those  everyday 
martyrs  whom  one  meets  so  often  among  the  Jews 
of  Judea,  men  who  day  by  day  see  their  ambitions 
vanishing  under  the  weight  of  a  crushing  duty.  It 
was  sad  to  see  how  he  lingered  over  the  farewell 
when  I  left  him.  I  said  that  his  house  had  seemed 
an  oasis  in  the  desert  to  me,  that  I  could  never  for 
get  the  time  spent  with  him.  u  And  what  of  me?  " 
he  answered.  "  Your  visit  has  been  an  oasis  in  the 
desert  to  me,  but  you  go  and  the  desert  remains." 
Surely,  the  saddest  thing  in  life  is  this  feeling  that 
one's  own  uninteresting,  commonplace  self  should 

85 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

mean  so  much  to  others.  I  call  it  sad,  because  so 
few  of  us  realize  what  we  may  mean  to  others, 
being  so  absorbed  in  our  selfish  thought  of  what 
others  mean  to  us, 

There  are  two  industries  in  Hebron  besides  the 
vintage.  It  supplies  most  of  the  skin-bottles  used 
in  Judea,  and  a  good  deal  of  glassware,  including 
lamps,  is  manufactured  there.  The  Hebron  tan 
nery  is  a  picturesque  place,  but  no  Jews  are  em 
ployed  in  it.  Each  bottle  is  made  from  an  entire 
goat-skin,  from  which  only  the  head  and  feet  are 
removed.  The  lower  extremities  are  sewn  up,  and 
the  neck  is  drawn  together  to  form  the  neck  of  the 
water  bottle.  Some  trade  is  also  done  here  in 
wool,  which  the  Arabs  bring  in  and  sell  at  the  mar 
ket  held  every  Friday.  In  ancient  times  the  sheep 
used  in  the  Temple  sacrifices  were  obtained  from 
Hebron.  Besides  the  tannery,  the  glass  factories 
are  worth  a  visit.  The  one  which  I  saw  was  in  a 
cavern,  lit  only  by  the  glow  of  the  central  furnace. 
Seated  round  the  hearth  (I  am  following  Gautier's 
faithful  description  of  the  scene)  and  served  by 
two  or  three  boys,  were  about  ten  workmen,  mak 
ing  many-colored  bracelets  and  glass  rings,  which 
varied  in  size  from  small  finger  rings  to  circlets 
through  which  you  could  easily  put  your  arm. 

86 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

The  workmen  are  provided  with  two  metal  rods 
and  a  pair  of  small  tongs,  and  they  ply  these  primi 
tive  instruments  with  wonderful  dexterity.  They 
work  very  hard,  at  least  fifteen  hours  a  day,  for 
five  days  a  week. 

This  is  one  of  the  curiosities  of  the  East.  Either 
the  men  there  are  loafers,  or  they  work  with  ex 
traordinary  vigor.  There  is  nothing  between  doing 
too  much  and  doing  nothing.  The  same  thing 
strikes  one  at  Jaffa.  The  porters  who  carry  your 
baggage  from  the  landing  stage  to  the  steamer  do 
more  work  than  three  English  dock  laborers.  They 
carry  terrific  weights.  When  a  family  moves,  a 
porter  carries  all  the  furniture  on  his  back.  Yet 
side  by  side  with  these  overworked  men,  Jaffa  is 
crowded  with  idlers,  who  do  absolutely  nothing. 
Such  are  the  contrasts  of  the  surprising  Orient. 

Many  of  the  beads  and  rosaries  taken  to  Europe 
by  pious  pilgrims  are  made  in  Hebron,  just  as  the 
mother  of  pearl  relics  come  chiefly  from  Bethle 
hem,  where  are  made  also  the  tobacco-jars  of  Dead 
Sea  stone.  Hebron  does  a  fair  trade  with  the 
Bedouins,  but  on  the  whole  it  is  quite  unprogres- 
sive.  At  first  sight  this  may  seem  rather  an  un 
pleasant  fact  for  lovers  of  peace.  Hebron  has  for 
many  centuries  been  absolutely  free  from  the  rav- 

87 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

ages  of  war,  yet  it  stagnates.  Peace  is  clearly  not 
enough  for  progress.  As  the  Rabbinical  phrase 
well  puts  it,  "  Peace  is  the  vessel  which  holds  all 
other  good  " — without  peace  this  other  good  is 
spilt,  but  peace  is  after  all  the  containing  vessel,  not 
the  content  of  happiness. 

I  have  left  out,  in  the  preceding  narrative,  the 
visit  paid  to  the  Haram  erected  over  the  Cave  of 
Machpelah.  The  mosque  is  an  imposing  structure, 
and  rises  above  the  houses  on  the  hill  to  the  left  as 
you  enter  from  Jerusalem.  The  walls  of  the  en 
closure  and  of  the  mosque  are  from  time  to  time 
whitewashed,  so  that  the  general  appearance  is 
somewhat  dazzling.  It  has  already  been  men 
tioned  that  certain  repairs  were  effected  in  1894-5. 
The  work  was  done  by  the  lads  of  the  Technical 
School  in  Jerusalem;  they  made  an  iron  gate  for 
Joseph's  tomb, — the  Moslems  believe  that  Joseph 
is  buried  in  Hebron, — and  they  made  one  gate  for 
Abraham's  tomb,  one  gate  and  three  window  grat 
ings  for  Isaac's  tomb,  and  one  gate  and  two  win 
dow  gratings  for  Rebekah's  tomb.  This  iron  work, 
it  is  satisfactory  to  remember,  was  rendered  pos 
sible  by  the  splendid  machinery  sent  out  to  the 
school  from  London  by  the  Anglo- Jewish  Associa 
tion.  The  ordinary  Jewish  visitor  is  not  allowed 

88 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

to  enter  the  enclosure  at  all.  I  was  stopped  at  the 
steps,  where  the  custodian  audaciously  demanded 
a  tip  for  not  letting  me  in.  The  tombs  within  are 
not  the  real  tombs  of  the  Patriarchs;  they  are 
merely  late  erections  over  the  spots  where  the 
Patriarchs  lie  buried. 

No  one  has  ever  doubted  that  Machpelah  is 
actually  at  this  site,  but  the  building  is,  of  course, 
not  Patriarchal  in  age.  The  enclosure  is  as  old  as 
the  Wailing  Wall  at  Jerusalem.  It  belongs  to  the 
age  of  Herod;  we  see  the  same  cyclopean  stones, 
with  the  same  surface  draftings  as  at  Jerusalem. 
Why  Herod  built  this  edifice  seems  clear.  Hebron 
was  the  centre  of  Idumean  influence,  and  Herod 
was  an  Idumean.  He  had  a  family  interest  in  the 
place,  and  hence  sought  to  beautify  it.  No  Jew  or 
Christian  can  enter  the  enclosure  except  by  special 
irade;  even  Sir  Moses  Montefiore  was  refused  the 
privilege.  Rather,  one  should  say,  the  Moslem  au 
thorities  wished  to  let  Sir  Moses  in,  but  they  were 
prevented  by  the  mob  from  carrying  out  their 
amiable  intentions.  The  late  English  King  Ed 
ward  VII  and  the  present  King  George  V  were 
privileged  to  enter  the  structure.  Mr.  Elkan  Ad- 
ler  got  in  at  the  time  when  the  Alliance  workmen 
were  repairing  the  gates,  but  there  is  nothing  to 

89 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

see  of  any  interest.  No  one  within  historical  times 
has  penetrated  below  the  mosque,  to  the  cavern 
itself.  We  still  do  not  know  whether  it  is  called 
Machpelah  because  the  Cave  is  double  vertically 
or  double  horizontally. 

The  outside  is  much  more  interesting  than  the 
inside.  Half  way  up  the  steps  leading  into  the 
mosque,  there  is  a  small  hole  or  window  at  which 
many  Jews  pray,  and  into  which,  it  is  said,  all  sorts 
of  things,  including  letters  to  the  Patriarchs,  are 
thrown,  especially  by  women.  In  the  Middle  Ages, 
they  spread  at  this  hole  a  tender  calf,  some  venison 
pasties,  and  some  red  pottage,  every  day,  in  honor 
of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  the  food  was 
eaten  by  the  poor.  It  is  commonly  reported,  though 
I  failed  to  obtain  any  local  confirmation  of  the 
assertion,  that  the  Jews  still  write  their  names  and 
their  requests  on  strips  of  paper  and  thrust  them 
into  this  hole.  The  Moslems  let  down  a  lamp 
through  the  hole,  and  also  cast  money  into  it, 
which  is  afterwards  picked  up  by  little  boys  as  it  is 
required  for  the  purposes  of  the  mosque  and  for 
repairing  the  numerous  tombs  of  prophets  and 
saints  with  which  Hebron  abounds.  If  you  were 
to  believe  the  local  traditions,  no  corpses  were  left 
for  other  cemeteries.  The  truth  is  that  much  ob- 

90 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

scurity  exists  as  to  the  identity  even  of  modern 
tombs,  for  Hebron  preserves  its  old  custom,  and 
none  of  the  Jewish  tombs  to  this  day  bear  epitaphs. 
What  a  mass  of  posthumous  hypocrisy  would  the 
world  be  spared  if  the  Hebron  custom  were  preva 
lent  everywhere !  But  it  is  obvious  that  the  method 
lends  itself  to  inventiveness,  and  as  the  tombs  are 
unnamed,  local  guides  tell  you  anything  they  choose 
about  them,  and  you  do  not  believe  them  even  when 
they  are  speaking  the  truth. 

There  is  only  one  other  fact  to  tell  about  the 
Cave.  The  Moslems  have  a  curious  dread  of  Isaac 
and  Rebekah,  they  regard  the  other  Patriarchs  as 
kindly  disposed,  but  Isaac  is  irritable,  and  Rebekah 
malicious.  It  is  told  of  Ibrahim  Pasha  of  Egypt, 
he  who  "  feared  neither  man  nor  devil,"  that  when 
he  was  let  down  into  the  Cave  by  a  rope,  he  sur 
prised  Rebekah  in  the  act  of  combing  her  hair. 
She  resented  the  intrusion,  and  gave  him  so  severe 
a  box  on  the  ears  that  he  fell  down  in  a  fit,  and 
could  be  rescued  alive  only  with  much  difficulty.  It 
is  with  equal  difficulty  that  one  can  depart,  with  any 
reverence  left,  from  the  mass  of  legend  and  child 
ishness  with  which  one  is  crushed  in  such  places. 
One  escapes  with  the  thought  of  the  real  Abraham, 
his  glorious  service  to  humanity,  his  lifelong  devo- 

91 


A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

tion  to  the  making  of  souls,  to  the  spread  of  the 
knowledge  of  God.  One  recalls  the  Abraham  who, 
in  the  Jewish  tradition,  is  the  type  of  unselfishness, 
of  watchfulness  on  behalf  of  his  descendants,  the 
marks  of  whose  genuine  relationship  to  the  Patri 
arch  are  a  generous  eye  and  a  humble  spirit.  As 
one  turns  from  Hebron,  full  of  such  happy  memo 
ries,  one  forms  the  resolve  not  to  rely  solely  on  an 
appeal  to  the  Patriarch's  merits,  but  to  strive  to  do 
something  oneself  for  the  Jewish  cause,  and  thus 
fulfil  the  poet's  lines, 

Thus  shalt  thou  plant  a  garden  round  the  tomb, 
Where  golden  hopes  may  flower,  and  fruits  immortal  bloom. 
[Notes,  pp,  302-303] 


92 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

In  the  year  1190,  Judah  ibn  Tibbon,  a  famous 
Provengal  Jew,  who  had  migrated  to  Southern 
France  from  Granada,  wrote  in  Hebrew  as  follows 
to  his  son : 

"  Avoid  bad  society:  make  thy  books  thy  com 
panions.  Let  thy  bookcases  and  shelves  be  thy 
gardens  and  pleasure  grounds.  Pluck  the  fruit  that 
grows  therein ;  gather  the  roses,  the  spices,  and  the 
myrrh.  If  thy  soul  be  satiate  and  weary,  change 
from  garden  to  garden,  from  furrow  to  furrow, 
from  scene  to  scene.  Then  shall  thy  desire  renew 
itself,  and  thy  soul  be  rich  with  manifold  delight." 

In  this  beautiful  comparison  of  a  library  to  a 
garden,  there  is  one  point  missing.  The  perfection 
of  enjoyment  is  reached  when  the  library,  or  at 
least  a  portable  part  of  it,  is  actually  carried  into 
the  garden.  When  Lightfoot  was  residing  at  Ash 
ley  (Staffordshire),  he  followed  this  course,  as  we 
know  from  a  letter  of  his  biographer.  "  There  he 
built  himself  a  small  house  in  the  midst  of  a  garden, 
containing  two  rooms  below,  viz.  a  study  and  a 

93 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

withdrawing  room,  and  a  lodging  chamber  above; 
and  there  he  studied  hard,  and  laid  the  foundations 
of  his  Rabbinic  learning,  and  took  great  delight, 
lodging  there  often,  though  [quaintly  adds  John 
Stype]  he  was  then  a  married  man."  Montaigne, 
whose  great-grandfather,  be  it  recalled,  was  a 
Spanish  Jew,  did  not  possess  a  library  built  in  the 
open  air,  but  he  had  the  next  best  thing.  He  used 
the  top  story  of  a  tower,  whence,  says  he,  "I  be 
hold  under  me  my  garden." 

In  ancient  Athens,  philosophers  thought  out 
their  grandest  ideas  walking  up  and  down  their 
groves.  Nature  sobers  us.  "  When  I  behold  Thy 
heavens,  the  work  of  Thy  fingers,  the  moon  and 
the  stars  which  Thou  hast  ordained;  what  is  man 
that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him,  and  the  son  of  man 
that  Thou  visitest  him?"  But  if  nature  sobers, 
she  also  consoles.  As  the  Psalmist  continues: 
"  Thou  hast  made  him  but  little  lower  than  the 
angels,  and  crownest  him  with  glory  and  honor. 
Thou  madest  him  to  have  dominion  over  the  works 
of  Thy  hands;  Thou  hast  put  all  things  under  his 
feet."  Face  to  face  with  nature,  man  realizes  that 
he  is  greater  than  she.  "  On  earth  there  is  noth 
ing  great  but  man,  in  man  there  is  nothing  great 
but  mind,"  So,  no  doubt,  the  Athenian  sages 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

gained  courage  as  well  as  modesty  from  the  con 
tact  of  mind  with  nature.  And  not  they  only,  for 
our  own  Jewish  treasure,  the  Mishnah,  grew  up,  if 
not  literally,  at  least  metaphorically,  in  the  open 
air,  in  the  vineyard  of  Jamnia.  Standing  in  the 
sordid  little  village  which  to-day  occupies  the  site 
of  ancient  Jamnia,  with  the  sea  close  at  hand  and 
the  plain  of  Sharon  and  the  Judean  lowlands  at  my 
feet,  I  could  see  Rabbi  Jochanan  ben  Zakkai  and 
his  comrades  pacing  to  and  fro,  pondering  those 
great  thoughts  which  live  among  us  now,  though 
the  authors  of  them  have  been  in  their  graves  for 
eighteen  centuries. 

It  is  curious  how  often  this  habit  of  movement 
goes  with  thinking.  Montaigne  says:  "Every 
place  of  retirement  requires  a  Walk.  My  thoughts 
sleep  if  I  sit  still;  my  Fancy  does  not  go  by  itself, 
as  it  goes  when  my  Legs  move  it."  What  Mon 
taigne  seems  to  mean  is  that  we  love  rhythm.  Body 
and  mind  must  move  together  in  harmony.  So  it 
is  with  the  Mohammedan  over  the  Koran,  and  the 
Rabbi  over  the  Talmud.  Jews  sway  at  prayer  for 
the  same  reason.  Movement  of  the  body  is  not  a 
mere  mannerism ;  it  is  part  of  the  emotion,  like  the 
instrumental  accompaniment  to  a  song.  The  child 
cons  his  lesson  moving;  we  foolishly  call  it  u  fidget- 

95 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

ing."  The  child  is  never  receptive  unless  also 
active.  But  there  is  another  of  Montaigne's  feel 
ings,  with  which  I  have  no  sympathy.  He  loved  to 
think  when  on  the  move,  but  his  walk  must  be 
solitary.  "  'Tis  here,"  he  says  of  his  library,  u  I 
am  in  my  kingdom,  and  I  endeavor  to  make  myself 
an  absolute  monarch.  So  I  sequester  this  one 
corner  from  all  society — conjugal,  filial,  civil." 
This  is  a  detestable  habit.  It  is  the  acme  of  selfish 
ness,  to  shut  yourself  up  with  your  books.  To 
write  over  your  study  door  "  Let  no  one  enter 
here !  "  is  to  proclaim  your  work  divorced  from 
life.  Montaigne  gloried  in  the  inaccessibility  of 
his  asylum.  His  house  was  perched  upon  an 
"  overpeering  hillock,"  so  that  in  any  part  of  it — 
still  more  in  the  round  room  of  the  tower — he 
could  "  the  better  seclude  myself  from  company, 
and  keep  encroachers  from  me."  Yet  some  may 
work  best  when  there  are  others  beside  them. 
From  the  book  the  reader  turns  to  the  child  that 
prattles  near,  and  realizes  how  much  more  the 
child  can  ask  than  the  book  can  answer.  The  pres 
ence  of  the  young  living  soul  corrects  the  vanity  of 
the  dead  old  pedant.  Books  are  most  solacing 
when  the  limitations  of  bookish  wisdom  are  per 
ceived.  "  Literature,"  said  Matthew  Arnold,  "  is 

96 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

a  criticism  of  life."  This  is  true,  despite  the  objec 
tions  of  Saintsbury,  but  I  venture  to  add  that  "  life 
is  a  criticism  of  literature." 

Now,  I  am  not  going  to  convert  a  paper  on  the 
Solace  of  Books  into  a  paper  in  dispraise  of  books. 
I  shall  not  be  so  untrue  to  my  theme.  But  I  give 
fair  warning  that  I  shall  make  no  attempt  to  scale 
the  height  or  sound  the  depth  of  the  intellectual 
phases  of  this  great  subject.  I  invite  my  reader 
only  to  dally  desultorily  on  the  gentler  slopes  of 
sentiment. 

One  of  the  most  comforting  qualities  of  books 
has  been  well  expressed  by  Richard  of  Bury  in  his 
famous  Philobiblon,  written  in  1344.  This  is  an 
exquisite  little  volume  on  the  Love  of  Books,  which 
Mr.  Israel  Gollancz  has  now  edited  in  an  exquisite 
edition,  attainable  for  the  sum  of  one  shilling. 
"  How  safely,"  says  Richard,  "  we  lay  bare  the 
poverty  of  human  ignorance  to  books,  without  feel 
ing  any  shame." 

Then  he  goes  on  to  describe  books  as  those  silent 
teachers  who  u  instruct  us  without  rods  or  stripes; 
without  taunts  or  anger;  without  gifts  or  money; 
who  are  not  asleep  when  we  approach  them,  and  do 
not  deny  us  when  we  question  them;  who  do  not 
chide  us  when  we  err,  or  laugh  at  us  if  we  are 
ignorant." 

7  97 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

It  is  Richard  of  Bury's  last  phrase  that  I  find  so 
solacing.  No  one  is  ever  ashamed  of  turning  to  a 
book,  but  many  hesitate  to  admit  their  ignorance 
to  an  interlocutor.  Your  dictionary,  your  encyclo 
pedia,  and  your  other  books,  are  the  recipients  of 
many  a  silent  confession  of  nescience  which  you 
would  never  dream  of  making  auricular.  You  go 
to  these  "  golden  pots  in  which  manna  is  stored," 
and  extract  food  exactly  to  your  passing  taste,  with 
out  needing  to  admit,  as  Esau  did  to  Jacob,  that 
you  are  hungry  unto  death.  This  comparison  of 
books  to  food  is  of  itself  solacing,  for  there  is  al 
ways  something  attractive  in  metaphors  drawn 
from  the  delights  of  the  table.  The  metaphor  is 
very  old. 

"  Open  thy  mouth,"  said  the  Lord  to  Ezekiel, 
"  and  eat  that  which  I  give  thee.  And  when  I 
looked,  a  hand  was  put  forth  unto  me,  and,  lo,  a 

scroll  of  a  book  was  therein Then  I  did 

eat  it,  and  it  was  in  my  mouth  as  honey  for  sweet 
ness." 

What  a  quaint  use  does  Richard  of  Bury  make 
of  this  very  passage !  Addressing  the  clergy,  he 
says  "  Eat  the  book  with  Ezekiel,  that  the  belly 
of  your  memory  may  be  sweetened  within,  and 
thus,  as  with  the  panther  refreshed,  to  whose 

98 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

breath  all  beasts  and  cattle  long  to  approach,  the 
sweet  savor  of  the  spices  it  has  eaten  may  shed  a 
perfume  without." 

Willing  enough  would  I  be  to  devote  the  whole 
of  my  paper  to  Richard  of  Bury.  I  must,  however, 
content  myself  with  one  other  noble  extract,  which, 
I  hope,  will  whet  my  reader's  appetite  for  more: 
"  Moses,  the  gentlest  of  men,  teaches  us  to  make 
bookcases  most  neatly,  wherein  they  [books]  may 
be  protected  from  any  injury.  Take,  he  says,  this 
book  of  the  Law  and  put  it  in  the  side  of  the  Ark  of 
the  Covenant  of  the  Lord  your  God.  O  fitting 
place  and  appropriate  for  a  library,  which  was 
made  of  imperishable  shittim  [i.  e.  acacia]  wood, 
and  was  covered  within  and  without  with  gold." 

Still  we  must  not  push  this  idea  of  costly  book 
cases  too  far.  Judah  the  Pious  wrote  in  the 
twelfth  century,  u  Books  were  made  for  use,  not 
to  be  hidden  away."  This  reminds  me  that  Rich 
ard  of  Bury  is  not  the  only  medieval  book-lover 
with  whom  we  might  spend  a  pleasant  evening. 
Judah  ben  Samuel  Sir  Leon,  surnamed  the  Pious, 
whom  I  have  just  quoted,  wrote  the  "  Book  of  the 
Pious  "  in  Hebrew,  in  1190,  and  it  has  many  ex 
cellent  paragraphs  about  books.  Judah's  subject 
is,  however,  the  care  of  books  rather  than  the  sol- 

99 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

ace  derivable  from  them.  Still,  he  comes  into  my 
theme,  for  few  people  can  have  enjoyed  books 
more  than  he.  He  had  no  selfish  love  for  them ;  he 
not  only  possessed  books,  he  lent  them.  He  was  a 
very  prince  of  book-lenders,  for  he  did  not  object 
if  the  borrowers  of  his  books  re-lent  them  in  their 
turn.  So,  on  dying,  he  advised  his  sons  to  lend  his 
books  even  to  an  enemy  (par.  876).  "  If  a  father 
dies,"  he  says  elsewhere  (par.  919),  "  and  leaves 
a  dog  and  a  book  to  his  sons,  one  shall  not  say  to 
the  other,  You  take  the  dog,  and  I'll  take  the 
book,"  as  though  the  two  were  comparable  in  value. 
Poor,  primitive  Judah  the  Pious !  We  wiser  mod 
erns  should  never  dream  of  making  the  comparison 
between  a  dog  and  a  book,  but  for  the  opposite 
reason.  Judah  shrank  from  equalling  a  book  to  a 
dog,  but  we  know  better  than  to  undervalue  a  dog 
so  far  as  to  compare  it  with  a  book.  The  kennel 
costs  more  than  the  bookcase,  and  love  of  dogs  is  a 
higher  solace  than  love  of  books.  To  those  who 
think  thus,  what  more  convincing  condemnation  of 
books  could  be  formulated  than  the  phrase  coined 
by  Gilbert  de  Porre  in  praise  of  his  library,  "  It  is 
a  garden  of  immortal  fruits,  without  dog  or 
dragon." 

I  meant  to  part  with  Richard  of  Bury,  but  I 
100 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

must  ask  permission  to  revert  to  him.  Some  of  the 
delight  he  felt  in  books  arose  from  his  preference 
of  reading  to  oral  intercourse.  u  The  truth  in 
speech  perishes  with  the  sound:  it  is  patent  to  the 
ear  only  and  eludes  the  sight:  begins  and  perishes 
as  it  were  in  a  breath."  Personally  I  share  this 
view,  and  I  believe  firmly  that  the  written  word 
brings  more  pleasure  than  the  spoken  word. 

Plato  held  the  opposite  view.  He  would  have 
agreed  with  the  advice  given  by  Chesterfield  to  his 
son,  "  Lay  aside  the  best  book  when  you  can  go 
into  the  best  company — depend  upon  it  you  change 
for  the  better."  Plato  did,  indeed,  characterize 
books  as  "  immortal  sons  deifying  their  sires."  But, 
on  the  opposite  side,  he  has  that  memorable  pas 
sage,  part  of  which  I  now  quote,  from  the  same 
source  that  has  supplied  several  others  of  my  quo 
tations,  Mr.  Alexander  Ireland's  "  Book-Lover's 
Enchiridion."  "Writing,"  says  Plato,  "  has  this 
terrible  disadvantage,  which  puts  it  on  the  same 
footing  with  painting.  The  artist's  productions 
stand  before  you,  as  if  they  were  alive:  but  if  you 
ask  them  anything,  they  keep  a  solemn  silence.  Just 
so  with  written  discourse :  you  would  fancy  it  full 
of  the  thoughts  it  speaks:  but  if  you  ask  it  some 
thing  that  you  want  to  know  about  what  is  said,  it 

101 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

looks  at  you  always  with  the  same  one  sign.  And, 
once  committed  to  writing,  discourse  is  tossed 
about  everywhere  indiscriminately,  among  those 
who  understand  and  those  to  whom  it  is  naught, 
and  who  cannot  select  the  fit  from  the  unfit."  Plato 
further  complains,  adds  Mr.  Martineau,  that 
"  Theuth,  the  inventor  of  letters,  had  ruined  men's 
memories  and  living  command  of  their  knowledge, 
by  inducing  a  lazy  trust  in  records  ready  to  their 
hand :  and  he  limits  the  benefit  of  the  liter  a  script  a 
to  the  compensation  it  provides  for  the  failing 
memory  of  old  age,  when  reading  naturally  be 
comes  the  great  solace  of  life Plato's  tone 

is  invariably  depreciatory  of  everything  committed 
to  writing,  with  the  exception  of  laws." 

This  wac  also  the  early  Rabbinical  view,  for 
while  the  Law  might,  nay,  must,  be  written,  the  rest 
of  the  tradition  was  to  be  orally  confided.  The 
oral  book  was  the  specialty  of  the  Rabbinical 
schools.  We  moderns,  who  are  to  the  ancients,  in 
Rabbinic  phrase,  as  asses  to  angels  in  intellect,  can 
not  rely  upon  oral  teaching — our  memory  is  too 
weak  to  bear  the  strain.  Even  when  a  student  at 
tends  an  oral  lecture,  he  proves  my  point,  because 
he  takes  notes. 

The  ideal  lies,  as  usual,  in  a  compromise.  Read- 
102 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

ing  profits  most  when,  beside  the  book,  you  have 
some  one  with  whom  to  talk  about  the  book.  If 
that  some  one  be  the  author  of  the  book,  good;  if 
it  be  your  teacher,  better;  if  it  be  a  fellow-student, 
better  still ;  if  it  be  members  of  your  family  circle, 
best  of  all.  The  teacher  has  only  succeeded  when 
he  feels  that  his  students  can  do  without  him,  can 
use  their  books  by  themselves  and  for  themselves. 
But  personal  intercourse  in  studies  between  equals 
is  never  obsolete.  "  Provide  thyself  with  a  fellow- 
student,"  said  the  Rabbi.  Friendship  made  over  a 
book  is  fast,  enduring;  this  friendship  is  the  great 
solace.  How  much  we  Jews  have  lost  in  modern 
times  in  having  given  up  the  old  habit  of  reading 
good  books  together  in  the  family  circle  !  Religious 
literature  thus  had  a  halo  of  home  about  it,  and  the 
halo  never  faded  throughout  life.  From  the  pages 
of  the  book  in  after  years  the  father's  loving  voice 
still  spoke  to  his  child.  But  when  it  comes  to  the 
author,  I  have  doubts  whether  it  be  at  all  good  to 
have  him  near  you  when  you  read  his  book.  You 
may  take  an  unfair  advantage  of  him,  and  reject 
his  book,  because  you  find  the  writer  personally 
antipathetic.  Or  he  may  take  an  unfair  advantage 
of  you,  and  control  you  by  his  personal  fascination. 
You  remember  the  critic  of  Demosthenes,  who  re- 

103 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

marked  to  him  of  a  certain  oration,  "  When  I  first 
read  your  speech,  I  was  convinced,  just  as  the  Athe 
nians  were ;  but  when  I  read  it  again,  I  saw  through 
its  fallacies."  "  Yes,"  rejoined  Demosthenes, 
"  but  the  Athenians  heard  it  only  once."  A  book 
you  read  more  than  once:  for  you  possess  only 
what  you  understand.  I  do  not  doubt  that  the  best 
readers  are  those  who  move  least  in  literary  circles, 
who  are  unprejudiced  one  way  or  the  other  by 
their  personal  likes  or  dislikes  of  literary  men. 
How  detestable  are  personal  paragraphs  about 
authors — often,  alas  !  autobiographical  titbits.  We 
expect  a  little  more  reticence :  we  expect  the  author 
to  say  what  he  has  to  say  in  his  book,  and  not  in  his 
talks  about  his  book  and  himself.  We  expect  him 
to  express  himself  and  suppress  himself.  "  Respect 
the  books,"  says  Judah  the  Pious,  "  or  you  show 
disrespect  to  the  writer."  No,  not  to  the  writer,  but 
to  the  soul  whose  progeny  the  book  is,  to  the  living 
intellect  that  bred  it,  in  Milton's  noble  phrase,  to 
"  an  Immortality  rather  than  a  life."  "  Many  a 
man,"  he  says,  "  lives  a  burden  to  the  earth;  but  a 
good  book  is  the  precious  life-blood  of  a  master 
spirit,  embalmed  and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a 
life  beyond  life." 

It  is  a  sober  truth  that,  of  the  books  we  chiefly 
104 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

love,  we  know  least  about  the  authors.  Perpe 
trating  probably  the  only  joke  in  his  great  Bodleian 
Catalogue,  Dr.  Steinschneider  enters  the  Bible 
under  the  heading  Anonyma.  We  are  nowadays 
so  concerned  to  know  whether  Moses  or  another 
wrote  the  Pentateuch,  that  we  neglect  the  Penta 
teuch  as  though  no  one  had  ever  written  it.  What 
do  we  know  about  the  personality  of  Shakespeare? 
Perhaps  we  are  happy  in  our  ignorance.  u  Some 
times,"  said  Jonathan  Swift,  "  I  read  a  book  with 
pleasure  and  detest  the  author."  Most  of  us  would 
say  the  same  of  Jonathan  Swift  himself,  and  all  of 
us,  I  think,  share  R.  L.  Stevenson's  resentment 
against  a  book  with  the  portrait  of  a  living  author, 
and  in  a  heightened  degree  against  an  English 
translation  of  an  ancient  Hebrew  classic  with  the 
translator's  portrait.  Sometimes  such  a  translator  is 
the  author;  his  rendering,  at  all  events,  is  not  the 
classic.  A  certain  Fidentinus  once  stole  the  work 
of  the  Roman  poet  Martial,  and  read  it  out  to  the 
assembly  as  his  own;  whereupon  Martial  wrote 
this  epigram, 

The  book  you  read  is,  Fidentinus,  mine, 

Tho'  read  so  badly,  it  well  may  pass  for  thine. 

But  even  apart  from  such  bad  taste  as  the  afore 
mentioned  translator's,  I  do  not  like  to  see  por- 

105 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

traits  of  living  authors  in  their  books.  The  author 
of  a  good  book  becomes  your  intimate,  but  it  is  the 
author  as  you  know  him  from  his  book,  not  as  you 
see  him  in  the  flesh  or  on  a  silver  print.  I  quote 
Stevenson  again :  "  When  you  have  read,  you  carry 
away  with  you  a  memory  of  the  man  himself;  it  is 
as  though  you  had  touched  a  loyal  hand,  looked 
into  brave  eyes,  and  made  a  noble  friend;  there  is 
another  bond  on  you  thenceforward,  binding  you 
to  life  and  to  the  love  of  virtue." 

This  line  of  thought  leads  me  to  the  further  re 
mark,  that  some  part  of  the  solace  derived  from 
books  has  changed  its  character  since  the  art  of 
printing  was  invented.  In  former  times  the  per 
sonality,  if  not  of  the  author,  at  all  events  of  the 
scribe,  pressed  itself  perforce  upon  the  reader. 
The  reader  had  before  him,  not  necessarily  an 
autograph,  but  at  all  events  a  manuscript.  Printing 
has  suppressed  this  individuality,  and  the  change  is 
not  all  for  the  better.  The  evil  consists  in  this,  that 
whereas  of  old  a  book,  being  handwritten,  was 
clearly  recognized  as  the  work  of  some  one's  hand, 
it  now  assumes,  being  printed,  an  impersonal  im 
portance,  which  may  be  beyond  its  deserts.  Espe 
cially  is  this  the  case  with  what  we  may  term  re 
ligious  authorities;  we  are  now  apt  to  forget  that 

106 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

behind  the  authority  there  stands  simply — the 
author.  It  is  instructive  to  contrast  the  customary 
method  of  citing  two  great  codifiers  of  Jewish  law 
— Maimonides  and  Joseph  Caro.  Caro  lived  in 
the  age  of  printing,  and  the  Shulchan  Aruch  was 
the  first  great  Jewish  book  composed  after  the 
printing-press  was  in  operation.  The  result  has 
been,  that  the  Shulchan  Aruch  has  become  an  im 
personal  authority,  rarely  cited  by  the  author's 
name,  while  the  Mishneh  Torah  is  mostly  referred 
to  as  the  Rambam,  i.  e.  Maimonides. 

For  all  that,  printing  has  been  a  gain,  even  from 
the  point  of  view  at  which  I  have  just  arrived.  Not 
only  has  it  demolished  the  barrier  which  the  scribe's 
personality  interposed  between  author  and  reader, 
but,  by  increasing  the  number  of  readers,  it  has 
added  to  the  solace  of  each.  For  the  solace  of 
books  is  never  selfish — the  book-miser  is  never  the 
book-lover,  nor  does  the  mere  collector  of  rarities 
and  preciosities  deserve  that  name,  for  the  one 
hoards,  but  does  not  own;  the  other  serves  Mam 
mon,  not  God.  The  modern  cheapening  of  books 
— the  immediate  result  of  printing — not  only  ex 
tends  culture,  it  intensifies  culture.  Your  joy  in  a 
book  is  truest  when  the  book  is  cheapest,  when  you 
know  that  it  is,  or  might  be,  in  the  hands  of  thou- 

107 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

sands  of  others,  who  go  with  you  in  the  throng 
towards  the  same  divine  joy. 

These  sentiments  are  clearly  those  of  a  Philis 
tine.  The  fate  of  that  last  word,  by  the  way,  is 
curious.  The  Philistines,  Mr.  Macalister  dis 
covered  when  excavating  Gezer,  were  the  only 
artistic  people  in  Palestine !  Using  the  term,  how 
ever,  in  the  sense  to  which  Matthew  Arnold  gave 
vogue,  I  am  a  Philistine  in  taste,  I  suppose,  for  I 
never  can  bring  myself  nowadays  to  buy  a  second 
hand  book.  For  dusty  old  tomes,  I  go  to  the  public 
library;  but  my  own  private  books  must  be  sweet 
and  clean.  There  are  many  who  prefer  old  copies, 
who  revel  in  the  inscribed  names  of  former  owners, 
and  prize  their  marginal  annotations.  If  there  be 
some  special  sentimental  associations  connected 
with  these  factors,  if  the  books  be  heirlooms,  and 
the  annotations  come  from  a  vanished,  but  beloved, 
hand,  then  the  old  book  becomes  an  old  love.  But 
in  most  cases  these  things  seem  to  me  the  defects 
of  youth,  not  the  virtues  of  age;  for  they  are  usu 
ally  too  recent  to  be  venerable,  though  they  are 
just  old  enough  to  disfigure.  Let  my  books  be 
young,  fresh,  and  fragrant  in  their  virgin  purity, 
unspotted  from  the  world.  If  my  copy  is  to  be 
soiled,  I  want  to  do  all  the  soiling  myself.  It  is 

108 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

very  different  with  a  manuscript,  which  cannot  be 
too  old  or  too  dowdy.  These  are  its  graces.  Dr. 
Neubauer  once  said  to  me,  *'  I  take  no  interest  in  a 
girl  who  has  seen  more  than  seventeen  years,  nor 
in  a  manuscript  that  has  seen  less  than  seven  hun 
dred."  Alonzo  of  Aragon  was  wont  to  say  in  com 
mendation  of  age,  that  "  age  appeared  to  be  best 
in  four  things :  old  wood  to  burn ;  old  wine  to  drink; 
old  friends  to  trust;  and  old  authors  to  read." 

This,  however,  is  not  my  present  point,  for  I 
have  too  much  consideration  for  my  readers  to 
attempt  to  embroil  them  in  the  old  "  battle  of  the 
books  "  that  raged  round  the  silly  question  whether 
the  ancients  or  the  moderns  wrote  better.  I  am 
discussing  the  age,  not  of  the  author,  but  of  the 
copy.  As  a  critic,  as  an  admirer  of  old  printing,  as 
an  archeologist,  I  feel  regard  for  the  editlo  prin- 
ceps,  but  as  a  lover  I  prefer  the  cheap  reprint.  Old 
manuscripts  certainly  have  their  charm,  but  they 
must  have  been  written  at  least  before  the  invention 
of  printing.  Otherwise  a  manuscript  is  an  anachro 
nism — it  recalls  too  readily  the  editorial  u  declined 
with  thanks."  At  best,  the  autograph  original  of 
a  modern  work  is  a  literary  curiosity,  it  reveals  the 
author's  mechanism,  not  his  mind.  But  old  manu 
scripts  are  in  a  different  case ;  their  age  has  increased 

109 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

their  charm,  mellowed  and  confirmed  their  graces, 
whether  they  be  canonical  books,  which  "  defile  the 
hand  "  in  the  Rabbinical  sense,  or  Genizah-grimed 
fragments,  which  soil  the  fingers  more  literally. 
And  when  the  dust  of  ages  is  removed,  these  old- 
world  relics  renew  their  youth,  and  stand  forth  as 
witnesses  to  Israel's  unshakable  devotion  to  his 
heritage. 

I  have  confessed  to  one  Philistine  habit;  let  me 
plead  guilty  to  another.  I  prefer  to  read  a  book 
rather  than  hear  a  lecture,  because  in  the  case  of 
the  book  I  can  turn  to  the  last  page  first.  I  do  like 
to  know  before  I  start  whether  he  marries  her  in 
the  end  or  not.  You  cannot  do  this  with  a  spoken 
discourse,  for  you  have  to  wait  the  lecturer's  pleas 
ure,  and  may  discover  to  your  chagrin,  not  only 
that  the  end  is  very  long  in  coming,  but  that  when 
it  does  come,  it  is  of  such  a  nature  that,  had  you 
foreseen  it,  you  would  certainly  not  have  been  pres 
ent  at  the  beginning.  The  real  interest  of  a  love 
story  is  its  process :  though  you  may  read  the  con 
summation  first,  you  are  still  anxious  as  to  the 
course  of  the  courtship.  But,  in  sober  earnest, 
those  people  err  who  censure  readers  for  trying  to 
peep  at  the  last  page  first.  For  this  much-abused 
habit  has  a  deep  significance  when  applied  to  life. 

110 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

You  will  remember  the  ritual  rule,  "  It  is  the  cus 
tom  of  all  Israel  for  the  reader  of  the  Scroll  of 
Esther  to  read  and  spread  out  the  Scroll  like  a 
letter,  to  make  the  miracle  visible."  I  remember 
hearing  a  sermon  just  before  Purim,  in  Vienna,  and 
the  Jewish  preacher  gave  an  admirable  homiletic 
explanation  of  this  rule.  He  pointed  out  that  in 
the  story  of  Esther  the  fate  of  the  Jews  has  very 
dark  moments,  destruction  faces  them,  and  hope  is 
remote.  But  in  the  end?  In  the  end  all  goes  well. 
Now,  by  spreading  out  the  Megillah  in  folds,  dis 
playing  the  end  with  the  beginning,  "  the  miracle 
is  made  visible."  Once  Lord  Salisbury,  when  some 
timid  Englishmen  regarded  the  approach  of  the 
Russians  to  India  as  a  menace,  told  his  countrymen 
to  use  large-scale  maps,  for  these  would  convince 
them  that  the  Russians  were  not  so  near  India  after 
all.  We  Jews  suffer  from  the  same  nervousness. 
We  need  to  use  large-scale  charts  of  human  history. 
We  need  to  read  history  in  centuries,  not  in  years. 
Then  we  should  see  things  in  their  true  perspective, 
with  God  changeless,  as  men  move  down  the  ring 
ing  grooves  of  change.  We  should  then  be  fuller 
of  content  and  confidence.  We  might  gain  a 
glimpse  of  the  Divine  plan,  and  might  perhaps  get 
out  of  our  habit  of  crying  "  All  is  lost "  at  every 

111 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

passing  persecution.  As  if  never  before  had  there 
been  weeping  for  a  night!  As  if  there  had  not  al 
ways  been  abounding  joy  the  morning  after !  Then 
let  us,  like  God  Himself,  try  to  see  the  end  in  the 
beginning,  let  us  spread  out  the  Scroll,  so  that  the 
glory  of  the  finish  may  transfigure  and  illumine  the 
gloom  and  sadness  of  the  intermediate  course,  and 
thus  "  the  miracle  "  of  God's  providential  love  will 
be  "  made  visible  "  to  all  who  have  eyes  to  see  it. 

What  strikes  a  real  lover  of  books  when  he  casts 
his  eye  over  the  fine  things  that  have  been  said 
about  reading,  is  this :  there  is  too  much  said  about 
profit,  about  advantage.  "  Reading,"  said  Bacon, 
"  maketh  a  full  man,"  and  reading  has  been  justi 
fied  a  thousand  times  on  this  famous  plea.  But, 
some  one  else,  I  forget  who,  says,  "  You  may  as 
well  expect  to  become  strong  by  always  eating,  as 
wise  by  always  reading."  Herbert  Spencer  was 
once  blamed  by  a  friend  for  reading  so  little.  Spen 
cer  replied,  "  If  I  read  as  much  as  you  do,  I  should 
know  as  little  as  you  do."  Too  many  of  the  eu 
logies  of  books  are  utilitarian.  A  book  has  been 
termed  "  the  home  traveller's  ship  or  horse,"  and 
libraries,  "  the  wardrobes  of  literature."  Another 
favorite  phrase  is  Montaigne's,  "  'Tis  the  best 
viaticum  for  this  human  journey,"  a  phrase  paral- 

112 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

leled  by  the  Rabbinic  use  of  the  Biblical  "  proven 
der  for  the  way."  "  The  aliment  of  youth,  the 
comfort  of  old  age,"  so  Cicero  terms  books.  u  The 
sick  man  is  not  to  be  pitied  when  he  has  his  cure  in 
his  sleeve  " — that  is  where  they  used  to  carry  their 
books.  But  I  cannot  go  through  the  long  list  of 
the  beautiful,  yet  inadequate,  similes  that  abound 
in  the  works  of  great  men,  many  of  which  can  be 
read  in  the  "  Book-Lover's  Enchiridion,"  to  which 
I  have  already  alluded. 

One  constant  comparison  is  of  books  to  friends. 
This  is  perhaps  best  worked  out  in  one  of  the 
Epistles  of  Erasmus,  which  the  "  Enchiridion  " 
omits:  "  You  want  to  know  what  I  am  doing.  I 
devote  myself  to  my  friends,  with  whom  I  enjoy 
the  most  delightful  intercourse.  With  them  I  shut 
myself  in  some  corner,  where  I  avoid  the  gaping 
crowd,  and  either  speak  to  them  in  sweet  whispers, 
or  listen  to  their  gentle  voices,  talking  with  them 
as  with  myself.  Can  anything  be  more  convenient 
than  this?  They  never  hide  their  own  secrets, 
while  they  keep  sacred  whatever  is  entrusted  to 
them.  They  speak  when  bidden,  and  when  not 
bidden  they  hold  their  tongue.  They  talk  of  what 
you  wish,  and  as  long  as  you  wish;  do  not  flatter, 
feign  nothing,  keep  back  nothing,  freely  tell  you  of 
8  113 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

your  faults,  and  take  no  man's  character  away. 
What  they  say  is  either  amusing  or  wholesome.  In 
prosperity  they  moderate,  in  affliction  they  console ; 
they  do  not  vary  with  fortune,  they  follow  you  in 
all  dangers,  and  last  out  to  the  very  grave.  Noth 
ing  can  be  more  candid  than  their  relations  with 
one  another.  I  visit  them  from  time  to  time,  now 
choosing  one  companion  and  now  another,  with 
perfect  impartiality.  With  these  humble  friends, 
I  bury  myself  in  seclusion.  What  wealth  or  what 
sceptres  would  I  take  in  exchange  for  this  tranquil 
life?" 

Tranquillity  is  a  not  unworthy  characteristic 
of  the  scholar,  but,  taking  Erasmus  at  his  word, 
would  he  not  have  been  even  a  greater  man  than 
he  was,  had  he  been  less  tranquil  and  more  strenu 
ous?  His  great  role  in  the  history  of  European 
culture  would  have  been  greater  still,  had  he  been 
readier  to  bear  the  rubs  which  come  from  rough 
contact  with  the  world.  I  will  not,  however,  allow 
myself  to  be  led  off  into  this  alluring  digression, 
whether  books  or  experience  make  a  man  wiser. 
Books  may  simply  turn  a  man  into  a  "  learned 
fool,"  and,  on  the  other  hand,  experience  may 
equally  fail  to  teach  any  of  the  lessons  of  wisdom. 
As  Moore  says : 

114 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

My  only  books 

Were  woman's  looks, 

And   folly's   all   they   taught   me. 

The  so-called  men  of  the  world  often  know  little 
enough  of  the  world  of  men.  It  is  a  delusion 
to  think  that  the  business  man  is  necessarily  busi 
ness-like.  Your  business  man  is  often  the  most  un- 
business-like  creature  imaginable.  For  practical 
ability,  give  me  the  man  of  letters.  Life  among 
books  often  leads  to  insight  into  the  book  of  life. 
At  Cambridge  we  speak  of  the  reading  men 
and  the  sporting  men.  Sir  Richard  Jebb,  when  he 
went  to  Cambridge,  was  asked,  "  Do  you  mean  to 
be  a  sporting  man  or  a  reading  man?  "  He  re 
plied,  "  Neither !  I  want  to  be  a  man  who  reads." 
Marcus  Aurelius,  the  scholar  and  philosopher,  was 
not  the  least  efficient  of  the  Emperors  of  Rome. 
James  Martineau  was  right  when  he  said  that  the 
student  not  only  becomes  a  better  man,  but  he  also 
becomes  a  better  student,  when  he  concerns  himself 
with  the  practical  affairs  of  life  as  well  as  with  his 
books.  And  the  idea  cuts  both  ways.  We  should 
be  better  men  of  business  if  we  were  also  men  of 
books.  It  is  not  necessary  to  recall  that  the  ancient 
Rabbis  were  not  professional  bookmen.  They  were 
$miths  and  ploughmen,  traders  and  merchants,  and 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

their  businesses  and  their  trades  were  idealized  and 
ennobled — and,  may  we  not  add,  their  handiwork 
improved? — by  the  expenditure  of  their  leisure  in 
the  schools  and  libraries  of  Jerusalem. 

And  so  all  the  foregoing  comparisons  between 
books  and  other  objects  of  utility  or  delight,  charm 
ing  though  some  of  these  comparisons  are,  fail  to 
satisfy  one.  One  feels  that  the  old  Jewish  concep 
tion  is  the  only  completely  true  one :  that  concep 
tion  which  came  to  its  climax  in  the  appointment 
of  a  benediction  to  be  uttered  before  beginning  to 
read  a  book  of  the  Law. 

The  real  solace  of  books  comes  from  the  sense 
of  service,  to  be  rendered  or  received;  and  one 
must  enter  that  holy  of  holies,  the  library,  with 
a  grateful  benediction  on  one's  lip,  and  humility 
and  reverence  and  joy  in  one's  soul.  Of  all  the 
writers  about  books,  Charles  Lamb,  in  his  playful 
way,  comes  nearest  to  this  old-world,  yet  imperish 
able,  ideal  of  the  Jewish  sages.  He  says:  "  I  own 
that  I  am  disposed  to  say  grace  upon  twenty  other 
occasions  in  the  course  of  the  day  besides  my  din 
ner.  I  want  a  form  for  setting  out  on  a  pleasant 
walk,  for  a  midnight  ramble,  for  a  friendly  meet 
ing,  for  a  solved  problem.  Why  have  we  none 
for  books,  those  spiritual  repasts — a  grace  before 

116 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

Milton, — a  grace  before  Shakespeare, — a  devo 
tional  exercise  proper  to  be  said  before  reading  the 
Fairy  Queen?"  The  Jewish  ritual  could  have 
supplied  Lamb  with  several  of  these  graces. 

It  will,  I  hope,  now  be  seen  why  in  speaking  on 
the  solace  of  books  I  have  said  so  little  about  con 
solation.  It  pains  me  to  hear  books  praised  as  a 
relief  from  worldly  cares,  to  hear  the  library  lik 
ened  to  an  asylum  for  broken  spirits.  I  have 
never  been  an  admirer  of  Boethius.  His  "  Conso 
lations  of  Philosophy  "  have  always  been  influential 
and  popular,  but  I  like  better  the  first  famous  Eng 
lish  translator  than  the  original  Latin  author. 
Boethius  wrote  in  the  sixth  century  as  a  fallen  man, 
as  one  to  whom  philosophy  came  in  lieu  of  the 
mundane  glory  which  he  had  once  possessed,  and 
had  now  lost.  But  Alfred  the  Great  turned  the 
"  Consolations  "  into  English  at  the  moment  of  his 
greatest  power.  He  translated  it  in  the  year  886, 
when  king  on  a  secure  throne ;  in  his  brightest  days, 
when  the  Danish  clouds  had  cleared.  Sorrow  has 
often  produced  great  books,  great  psalms,  to  which 
the  sorrowful  heart  turns  for  solace.  But  in  the 
truest  sense  the  Shechinah  rests  on  man  only  in  his 
joy,  when  he  has  so  attuned  his  life  that  misfor 
tune  is  but  another  name  for  good  fortune.  He 

117 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

must  have  learned  to  endure  before  he  seeks  the 
solace  of  communion  with  the  souls  of  the  great, 
with  the  soul  of  God.  Very  saddening  it  is  to  note 
how  often  men  have  turned  to  books  because  life 
has  no  other  good.  The  real  book-lover  goes  to 
his  books  when  life  is  fullest  of  other  joys,  when 
his  life  is  richest  in  its  manifold  happiness.  Then 
he  adds  the  crown  of  joy  to  his  other  joys,  and 
finds  the  highest  happiness. 

I  do  not  like  to  think  of  the  circumstances  under 
which  Sir  Thomas  Bodley  went  to  Oxford  to  found 
his  famous  library.  Not  till  his  diplomatic  career 
was  a  failure,  not  till  Elizabeth's  smiles  had  dark 
ened  into  frowns,  did  he  set  up  his  staff  at  the 
library  door.  But  Bodley  rather  mistook  himself. 
As  a  lad  the  library  had  been  his  joy,  and  when  he 
was  abroad,  at  the  summit  of  his  public  fame,  he 
turned  his  diplomatic  missions  to  account  by  col 
lecting  books  and  laying  the  foundation  of  his 
future  munificence.  I  even  think  that  no  lover  of 
books  ever  loved  them  so  well  in  his  adversity  as  in 
his  prosperity.  Another  view  was  held  by  Don 
Isaac  Abarbanel,  the  famous  Jewish  statesman  and 
litterateur.  Under  Alfonso  V,  of  Portugal,  and  other 
rulers,  he  attained  high  place,  but  was  brought 
low  by  the  Inquisition,  and  shared  in  the  expulsion 

118 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

of  his  brethren.  He  writes  in  one  of  his  letters: 
"  The  whole  time  I  lived  in  the  courts  and  palaces 
of  kings,  occupied  in  their  service,  I  had  no  leisure 
to  read  or  write  books.  My  days  were  spent  in 
vain  ambitions,  seeking  after  wealth  and  honor. 
Now  that  my  wealth  is  gone,  and  honor  has  become 
exiled  from  Israel ;  now  that  I  am  a  vagabond  and 
a  wanderer  on  the  earth,  and  I  have  no  money: 
now,  I  have  returned  to  seek  the  book  of  God,  as  it 
is  said,  ^np  'om  KIDHO  mon,  '  He  is  in  sore  need, 
therefore  he  studies.'  ' 

This  is  witty,  but  it  is  not  wise.  Fortunately,  it 
is  not  quite  true;  Abarbanel  does  little  justice  to 
himself  in  this  passage,  for  elsewhere  (in  the  pref 
ace  to  his  Commentary  on  Kings)  he  draws  a 
very  different  picture  of  his  life  in  his  brilliant  court 
days.  "  My  house,"  he  says,  "  was  an  assembly 
place  for  the  wise  ....  in  my  abode  and  within 
my  walls  were  wealth  and  fame  for  the  Torah  and 
for  those  made  great  in  its  lore."  Naturally,  the 
active  statesman  had  less  leisure  for  his  books  than 
the  exiled,  fallen  minister. 

So,  too,  with  an  earlier  Jewish  writer,  Saadia. 
No  sadder  title  was  ever  chosen  for  a  work  than 
his  Sefer  ha-Galui — "  Book  of  the  Exiled."  It  is 
beyond  our  province  to  enter  into  his  career,  full 

119 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

of  stress  and  storm.  Betwen  933  and  937,  driven 
from  power,  he  retired  to  his  library  at  Bagdad, 
just  as  Cincinnatus  withdrew  to  his  farm  when. 
Rome  no  longer  needed  him.  During  his  retire 
ment  Saadia's  best  books  were  written.  Why? 
Graetz  tells  us  that  "  Saadia  was  still  under  the 
ban  of  excommunication.  He  had,  therefore,  no 
other  sphere  of  action  than  that  of  an  author." 
This  is  pitiful;  but,  again,  it  is  not  altogether  true. 
Saadia's  whole  career  was  that  of  active  author 
ship,  when  in  power  and  out  of  power,  as  a  boy,  in 
middle  life,  in  age :  his  constant  thought  was  the 
service  of  truth,  in  so  far  as  literature  can  serve  it, 
and  one  may  well  think  that  he  felt  that  the  Crown 
of  the  Law  was  better  worth  wearing  in  prosperity, 
when  he  chose  it  out  of  other  crowns,  than  in  ad 
versity,  when  it  was  the  only  crown  within  his 
reach.  It  was  thus  that  King  Solomon  chose. 

So,  in  speaking  of  the  solace  of  books,  I  have 
ventured  to  employ  "  solace  "  in  an  old,  unusual 
sense.  "  Solace  "  has  many  meanings.  It  means 
"  comfort  in  sorrow,"  and  in  Scotch  law  it  denotes 
a  compensation  for  wounded  feelings,  solatium, 
moral  and  intellectual  damages  in  short.  But  in 
Chaucer  and  Spenser,  "  solace  "  is  sometimes  used 
as  a  synonym  for  joy  and  sweet  exhilaration.  This 

120 


THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

is  an  obsolete  use,  but  let  me  hope  that  the  thing  is 
not  obsolete.  For  one  must  go  to  his  books  for 
solace,  not  in  mourning  garb,  but  in  gayest  attire — 
to  a  wedding,  not  to  a  funeral.  When  John  Clare 
wrote, 

I  read  in  books  for  happiness, 
But  books  mistake  the  way  to  joy, 

he  read  for  what  he  ought  to  have  brought,  and 
thus  he  failed  to  find  his  goal.  The  library  has  been 
beautifully  termed  the  "  bridal  chamber  of  the 
mind."  So,  too,  the  Apocrypha  puts  it  in  the 
Wisdom  of  Solomon : 

Wisdom  is  radiant 

Her  I  loved  and  sought  out  from  my  youth, 
And  I  sought  to  take  her  for  my  bride, 
And  I  became  enamored  of  her  beauty. 

When  I  am  come  into  my  house,  I  shall  find  rest  with  her, 
For  converse  with  her  hath  no  bitterness, 
And  to  live  with  her  hath  no  pain. 

O  God  of  the  fathers,  .... 

Give  me  wisdom,  that  sitteth  by  Thee  on  Thy  throne. 
[Notes,  pp.  303-304] 


121 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

Men  leave  their  homes  because  they  must,  or  be 
cause  they  will.  The  Hebrew  has  experienced 
both  motives  for  travelling.  Irresistibly  driven  on 
by  his  own  destiny  and  by  the  pressure  of  his  fel 
low-men,  the  Jew  was  also  gifted  with  a  double 
share  of  that  curiosity  and  restlessness  which  often 
send  men  forth  of  their  own  free  will  on  long  and 
arduous  journeys.  He  has  thus  played  the  part  of 
the  Wandering  Jew  from  choice  and  from  neces 
sity.  He  loved  to  live  in  the  whole  world,  and  the 
whole  world  met  him  by  refusing  him  a  single  spot 
that  he  might  call  his  very  own. 

Tribes  of  the  wandering  foot  and  weary  breast, 
How  shall  ye  flee  away  and  be  at  rest ! 
The  wild-dove  hath  her  nest,  the  fox  her  cave, 
Mankind  their  country, — Israel  but  the  grave ! 

A  sad  chapter  of  medieval  history  is  filled  with  the 
enforced  wanderings  of  the  sons  of  Israel.  The 
lawgiver  prophesied  well,  "  There  shall  be  no  rest 
for  the  sole  of  thy  foot."  But  we  are  not  concerned 
here  with  the  victim  of  expulsion  and  persecution. 

122 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

The  wayfarer  with  whom  we  shall  deal  is  the 
traveller,  and  not  the  exile.  He  was  moved  by  no 
caprice  but  his  own.  He  will  excite  our  admira 
tion,  perhaps  our  sympathy,  only  rarely  our  tears. 

My  subject,  be  it  remembered,  is  not  wayfarers, 
but  wayfaring.  Hence  I  am  to  tell  you  not  the 
story  of  particular  travellers,  but  the  manner  of 
their  travelling,  the  conditions  under  which  they 
moved.  Before  leaving  home,  a  Jewish  wayfarer 
of  the  Middle  Ages  was  bound  to  procure  two 
kinds  of  passport.  In  no  country  in  those  days  was 
freedom  of  motion  allowed  to  anyone.  The  Jew 
was  simply  a  little  more  hampered  than  others.  In 
England,  the  Jew  paid  a  feudal  fine  before  he 
might  cross  the  seas.  In  Spain,  the  system  of  ex 
actions  was  very  complete.  No  Jew  could  change 
his  residence  without  a  license  even  within  his  own 
town.  But  in  addition  to  the  inflictions  of  the  Gov 
ernment,  the  Jews  enacted  voluntary  laws  of  their 
own,  forcing  their  brethren  to  obtain  a  congrega 
tional  permit  before  starting. 

The  reasons  for  this  restriction  were  simple.  In 
the  first  place,  no  Jew  could  be  allowed  to  depart 
at  will,  and  leave  the  whole  burden  of  the  royal 
taxes  on  the  shoulders  of  those  who  were  left  be 
hind.  Hence,  in  many  parts  of  Europe  and  Asia, 

123 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

no  Jew  could  leave  without  the  express  consent  of 
the  congregation.  Even  when  he  received  the  con 
sent,  it  was  usually  on  the  understanding  that  he 
would  continue,  in  his  absence,  to  pay  his  share  of 
the  communal  dues.  Sometimes  even  women  were 
included  in  this  law,  as,  for  instance,  if  the  daughter 
of  a  resident  Jew  married  and  settled  elsewhere, 
she  was  forced  to  contribute  to  the  taxes  of  her 
native  town  a  sum  proportionate  to  her  dowry,  un 
less  she  emigrated  to  Palestine,  in  which  case  she 
was  free.  A  further  cause  why  Jews  placed  re 
strictions  on  free  movement  was  moral  and  com 
mercial.  Announcements  had  to  be  made  in  the 
synagogue  informing  the  congregation  that  so-and- 
so  was  on  the  point  of  departure,  and  anyone  with 
claims  against  him  could  obtain  satisfaction.  No 
clandestine  or  unauthorized  departure  was  permis 
sible.  It  must  not  be  thought  that  these  communal 
licenses  were  of  no  service  to  the  traveller.  On  the 
contrary,  they  often  assured  him  a  welcome  in  the 
next  town,  and  in  Persia  were  as  good  as  a  safe- 
conduct.  No  Mohammedan  would  have  dared 
defy  the  travelling  order  sealed  by  the  Jewish 
Patriarch. 

Having  obtained  his  two  licenses,  one  from  the 
Government  and  the  other  from  the  Synagogue,  the 

124 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

traveller  would  have  to  consider  his  costume. 
"  Dress  shabbily  "  was  the  general  Jewish  maxim 
for  the  tourist.  How  necessary  this  rule  was,  may 
be  seen  from  what  happened  to  Rabbi  Petachiah, 
who  travelled  from  Prague  to  Nineveh,  in  1175,  or 
thereabouts.  At  Nineveh  he  fell  sick,  and  the 
king's  physicians  attended  him  and  pronounced  his 
death  certain.  Now  Petachiah  had  travelled  in 
most  costly  attire,  and  in  Persia  the  rule  was  that 
if  a  Jewish  traveller  died,  the  physicians  took  half 
his  property.  Petachiah  saw  through  the  real  dan 
ger  that  threatened  him,  so  he  escaped  from  the 
perilous  ministrations  of  the  royal  doctors,  had 
himself  carried  across  the  Tigris  on  a  raft,  and  soon 
recovered.  Clearly,  it  was  imprudent  of  a  Jewish 
traveller  to  excite  the  rapacity  of  kings  or  bandits 
by  wearing  rich  dresses.  But  it  was  also  desirable 
for  the  Jew,  if  he  could,  to  evade  recognition  as 
such  altogether.  Jewish  opinion  was  very  sensible 
on  this  head.  It  did  not  forbid  a  Jew's  disguising 
himself  even  as  a  priest  of  the  Church,  joining  a 
caravan,  and  mumbling  Latin  hymns.  In  times  of 
danger,  he  might,  to  save  his  life,  don  the  turban 
and  pass  as  a  Mohammedan  even  in  his  home. 
Most  remarkable  concession  of  all,  the  Jewess  on 
a  journey  might  wear  the  dress  of  a  man.  The  law 

125 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

of  the  land  was  equally  open  to  reason.  In  Spain, 
the  Jew  was  allowed  to  discard  his  yellow  badge 
while  travelling;  in  Germany,  he  had  the  same 
privilege,  but  he  had  to  pay  a  premium  for  it.  In 
some  parts,  the  Jewish  community  as  a  whole 
bought  the  right  to  travel  and  to  discard  the  badge 
on  journeys,  paying  a  lump  sum  for  the  general 
privilege,  and  itself  exacting  a  communal  tax 
to  defray  the  general  cost.  In  Rome,  the  traveller 
was  allowed  to  lodge  for  ten  days  before  resuming 
his  hated  badge.  But,  curiously  enough,  the  legal 
relaxation  concerning  the  badge  was  not  extended 
to  the  markets.  The  Jew  made  the  medieval  mar 
kets,  yet  he  was  treated  as  an  unwelcome  guest,  a 
commodity  to  be  taxed.  This  was  especially  so  in 
Germany.  In  1226,  Bishop  Lorenz,  of  Breslau, 
ordered  Jews  who  passed  through  his  domain  to 
pay  the  same  toll  as  slaves  brought  to  market.  The 
visiting  Jew  paid  toll  for  everything;  but  he  got 
part  of  his  money  back.  He  received  a  yellow 
badge,  which  he  was  forced  to  wear  during  his 
whole  stay  at  the  market,  the  finances  of  which  he 
enriched,  indirectly  by  his  trade,  and  directly  by 
his  huge  contributions  to  the  local  taxes. 

The  Jewish  traveller  mostly  left  his  wife  at 
home,    In  certain  circumstances  he  could  force  her 

126 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

to  go  with  him,  as,  for  instance,  if  he  had  resolved 
to  settle  in  Palestine.  On  the  other  hand,  the  wife 
could  prevent  her  husband  from  leaving  her  dur 
ing  the  first  year  after  marriage.  It  also  happened 
that  families  emigrated  together.  Mostly,  however, 
the  Jewess  remained  at  home,  and  only  rarely  did 
she  join  even  the  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem.  This  is 
a  striking  contrast  to  the  Christian  custom,  for  it 
was  the  Christian  wjpman  that  was  the  most  ardent 
pilgrim ;  in  fact,  pilgrimages  to  the  Holy  Land  only 
became  popular  in  Church  circles  because  of  the  en 
thusiasm  of  Helena,  mother  of  Constantine  the 
Great,  especially  when,  in  326,  she  found  the  true 
cross.  We,  however,  read  of  an  aged  Jewess  who 
made  a  pilgrimage  to  all  the  cities  of  Europe,  for 
the  purpose  of  praying  in  the  synagogues  on  her 
route. 

We  now  know,  from  the  Chronicle  of  Achimaaz, 
that  Jews  visited  Jerusalem  in  the  tenth  century. 
Aronius  records  a  curious  incident.  Charles  the 
Great,  between  the  years  787  and  813,  ordered  a 
Jewish  merchant,  who  often  used  to  visit  Palestine 
and  bring  precious  and  unknown  commodities 
thence  to  the  West,  to  hoax  the  Archbishop  of 
Mainz,  so  as  to  lower  the  self-conceit  of  this  vain 
dilettante.  The  Jew  thereupon  sold  him  a  mouse 

127 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

at  a  high  price,  persuading  him  that  it  was  a  rare 
animal,  which  he  had  brought  with  him  from 
Judea.  Early  in  the  eleventh  century  there  was  a 
fully  organized  Jewish  community  with  a  Beth- 
Din  at  Ramleh,  some  four  hours'  drive  from 
Jaffa.  But  Jews  did  not  visit  Palestine  in  large 
numbers,  until  Saladin  finally  regained  the  Holy 
City  for  Mohammedan  rule,  towards  the  end  of 
the  twelfth  century.  From  that  time  pilgrimages 
of  Jews  became  more  frequent;  but  the  real  influx 
of  Jews  into  Palestine  dates  from  1492,  when  many 
of  the  Spanish  exiles  settled  there,  and  formed  the 
nucleus  of  the  present  Sefardic  population. 

On  the  whole,  it  may  be  said  that  in  the  Middle 
Ages  the  journey  to  Palestine  was  fraught  with  so 
much  danger  that  it  was  gallantry  that  induced  men 
to  go  mostly  without  their  wives.  And,  generally 
speaking,  the  Jew  going  abroad  to  earn  a  living  for 
his  family,  could  not  dream  of  allowing  his  wife  to 
share  the  dangers  and  fatigues  of  the  way.  In 
Ellul,  1146,  Rabbi  Simeon  the  Pious  returned  from 
England,  where  he  had  lived  many  years,  and  be 
took  himself  to  Cologne,  thence  to  take  ship  home 
to  Trier.  On  the  way,  near  Cologne,  he  was  slain 
by  Crusaders,  because  he  refused  baptism.  The 
Jewish  community  of  Cologne  bought  the  body 

128 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

from  the  citizens,  and  buried  it  in  the  Jewish  ceme 
tery. 

No  doubt  it  was  often  a  cruel  necessity  that  sep 
arated  husband  and  wife.  The  Jewish  law,  even 
in  lands  where  monogamy  was  not  legally  enforced, 
did  not  allow  the  Jew,  however,  to  console  himself 
with  one  wife  at  home  and  another  abroad.  Jo- 
sephus,  we  know,  had  one  wife  in  Tiberias  and  an 
other  in  Alexandria,  and  the  same  thing  is  told  us 
of  royal  officers  in  the  Roman  period;  but  the  Tal- 
mudic  legislation  absolutely  forbids  such  license, 
even  though  it  did  not  formally  prohibit  a  man 
from  having  more  than  one  wife  at  home.  We 
hear  occasionally  of  the  wife's  growing  restive  in 
her  husband's  absence  and  taking  another  husband. 
In  1272,  Isaac  of  Erfurt  went  on  a  trading  jour 
ney,  and  though  he  was  only  gone  from  March  9, 
1271,  to  July,  1272,  he  found,  on  his  return,  that 
his  wife  had  wearied  of  waiting  for  him.  Such  in 
cidents  on  the  side  of  the  wife  were  very  rare;  the 
number  of  cases  in  which  wife-desertion  occurred 
was  larger.  In  her  husband's  absence,  the  wife's 
lot,  at  best,  was  not  happy.  "  Come  back,"  wrote 
one  wife,  "  or  send  me  a  divorce."  "  Nay,"  re 
plied  the  husband,  "  I  can  do  neither.  I  have  not 
yet  made  enough  provision  for  us,  so  I  cannot  re- 
9  129 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

turn.  And,  before  Heaven,  I  love  you,  so  I  cannot 
divorce  you."  The  Rabbi  advised  that  he  should 
give  her  a  conditional  divorce,  a  kindly  device, 
which  provided  that,  in  case  the  husband  remained 
away  beyond  a  fixed  date,  the  wife  was  free  to  make 
other  matrimonial  arrangements.  The  Rabbis 
held  that  travelling  diminishes  family  life,  prop 
erty,  and  reputation.  Move  from  house  to  house, 
and  you  lose  a  shirt;  go  from  place  to  place,  and 
you  lose  a  life — so  ran  the  Rabbinic  proverb.  This 
subject  might  be  enlarged  upon,  but  enough  has 
been  said  to  show  that  this  breaking  up  of  the 
family  life  was  one  of  the  worst  effects  of  the  Jew 
ish  travels  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  even  more  re 
cent  times. 

Whether  his  journey  was  devotional  or  com 
mercial,  the  rites  of  religion  formed  part  of  the 
traveller's  preparations  for  the  start.  The  Prayer 
for  Wayfarers  is  Talmudic  in  origin.  It  may  be 
found  in  many  prayer  books,  and  I  need  not  quote 
it.  But  one  part  of  it  puts  so  well,  in  a  few  preg 
nant  words,  the  whole  story  of  danger,  that  I  must 
reproduce  them.  On  approaching  a  town,  the  Jew 
prayed,  "  May  it  be  Thy  will,  O  Lord,  to  bring 
me  safely  to  this  town."  When  he  had  entered,  he 
prayed,  "  May  it  be  Thy  will,  O  Lord,  to  take 

130 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

me  safely  from  this  town."  And  when  he  actually 
left,  he  uttered  similar  words,  pathetic  and  pain 
fully  significant. 

In  the  first  century  of  the  Christian  era,  much 
travelling  was  entailed  by  the  conveyance  of  the 
didrachmon,  sent  by  each  Jew  to  the  Temple  from 
almost  every  part  of  the  known  world.  Philo 
says  of  the  Jews  beyond  the  Euphrates:  "  Every 
year  the  sacred  messengers  are  sent  to  convey  large 
sums  of  gold  and  silver  to  the  Temple,  which  have 
been  collected  from  all  the  subordinate  Govern 
ments.  They  travel  over  rugged  and  difficult  and 
almost  impassable  roads,  which,  however,  they 
look  upon  as  level  and  easy,  inasmuch  as  they  serve 
to  conduct  them  to  piety."  And  the  road  was 
made  easy  in  other  ways. 

It  must  often  have  been  shortened  to  the  imagi 
nation  by  the  prevalent  belief  that  by  supernatural 
aid  the  miles  could  be  actually  lessened.  Rabbi 
Natronai  was  reported  to  be  able  to  convey  himself 
a  several  days'  journey  in  a  single  instant.  So  Ben 
jamin  of  Tudela  tells  how  Alroy,  who  claimed  to 
be  the  Messiah  in  the  twelfth  century,  not  only 
could  make  himself  visible  or  invisible  at  will,  but 
could  cross  rivers  on  his  turban,  and,  by  the  aid  of 
the  Divine  Name,  could  travel  a  ten  days'  journey 

131 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

in  ten  hours.  Another  Jewish  traveller  calmed 
the  sea  by  naming  God,  another  by  writing  the 
sacred  Name  on  a  shard,  and  casting  it  into  the 
sea.  "  Have  no  care,"  said  he,  on  another  occa 
sion,  to  his  Arab  comrade,  as  the  shadows  fell  on 
a  Friday  afternoon,  and  they  were  still  far  from 
home,  "  have  no  care,  we  shall  arrive  before  night 
fall,"  and,  exercising  his  wonderworking  powers, 
he  was  as  good  as  his  word.  We  read  in  Achi- 
maaz  of  the  exploits  of  a  tenth-century  Jew  who 
traversed  Italy,  working  wonders,  being  received 
everywhere  with  popular  acclamations.  This  was 
Aaron  of  Bagdad,  son  of  a  miller,  who,  finding  that 
a  lion  had  eaten  the  mill-mule,  caught  the  lion  and 
made  him  do  the  grinding.  His  father  sent  him  on 
his  travels  as  a  penalty  for  his  dealings  with  magic : 
after  three  years  he  might  return.  He  went  on 
board  a  ship,  and  assured  the  sailors  that  they  need 
fear  neither  foe  nor  storm,  for  he  could  use  the 
Name.  He  landed  at  Gaeta  in  Italy,  where  he 
restored  to  human  form  the  son  of  his  host,  whom 
a  witch  had  turned  into  an  ass.  This  was  the  be 
ginning  of  many  miracles.  But  he  did  not  allow 
one  place  to  monopolize  him.  Next  we  find  him 
in  Benvenuto.  He  goes  to  the  synagogue,  recog 
nizes  that  a  lad  omits  the  name  of  God  from  his 

132 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

prayer,  thus  showing  that  he  is  dead !  He  goes  to 
Oria,  then  to  Bari,  and  so  forth.  Similar  marvels 
were  told  in  the  Midrash,  of  travellers  like  Father 
Jacob,  and  in  the  lives  of  Christian  saints. 

But  the  Jew  had  a  real  means  of  shortening  the 
way — by  profitable  and  edifying  conversation. 
"  Do  not  travel  with  an  Am  ha-Arez,"  the  olden 
Rabbis  advised.  Such  a  one,  they  held,  was  care 
less  of  his  own  safety,  and  would  hardly  be  more 
careful  of  his  companion's  life.  But,  besides,  an 
Am  ha-Arez,  using  the  word  in  its  later  sense  of 
ignoramus,  would  be  too  dull  for  edifying  conver 
sation,  and  one  might  as  well  or  as  ill  journey 
alone  as  with  a  boor.  But  "  thou  shalt  speak  of 
them  by  the  way,"  says  Deuteronomy  of  the  com 
mandments,  and  this  (to  say  nothing  of  the  dan 
ger)  was  one  of  the  reasons  why  solitary  travelling 
was  disapproved.  A  man  walking  alone  was  more 
likely  to  turn  his  mind  to  idle  thoughts,  than  if  he 
had  a  congenial  partner  to  converse  with,  and  the 
Mishnah  is  severe  against  him  who  turns  aside 
from  his  peripatetic  study  to  admire  a  tree  or  a 
fallow.  This  does  not  imply  that  the  Jews  were 
indifferent  to  the  beauties  of  nature.  Jewish  travel 
lers  often  describe  the  scenery  of  the  parts  they 
visit,  and  Petachiah  literally  revels  in  the  beautiful 

133 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

gardens  of  Persia,  which  he  paints  in  vivid  colors. 
Then,  again,  few  better  descriptions  of  a  storm  at 
sea  have  been  written  than  those  composed  by 
Jehudah  Halevi  on  his  fatal  voyage  to  Palestine. 
Similarly,  Charizi,  another  Jewish  wayfarer,  who 
laughed  himself  over  half  the  world,  wrote  verses 
as  he  wralked,  to  relieve  the  tedium.  He  is  perhaps 
the  most  entertaining  of  all  Jewish  travellers. 
Nothing  is  more  amusing  than  his  conscious  habit 
of  judging  the  characters  of  the  men  he  saw  by  their 
hospitality,  or  the  reverse,  to  himself.  A  more 
serious  traveller,  Maimonides,  must  have  done  a 
good  deal  of  thinking  on  horseback,  to  get  through 
his  ordinary  day's  work  and  write  his  great  books. 
In  fact,  he  himself  informs  us  that  he  composed 
part  of  his  Commentary  to  the  Mishnah  while  jour 
neying  by  land  and  sea.  In  Europe,  the  Rabbis 
often  had  several  neighboring  congregations  under 
their  care,  and  on  their  journeys  to  and  fro  took 
their  books  with  them,  and  read  in  them  at  inter 
vals.  Maharil,  on  such  journeys,  always  took  note 
of  the  Jewish  customs  observed  in  different  locali 
ties.  He  was  also  a  most  skilful  and  successful 
Shadchan,  or  marriage -broker,  and  his  extensive 
travels  placed  this  famous  Rabbi  in  an  excellent 
position  for  match-making.  Certainly,  the  mar- 

134 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

riages  he  effected  were  notoriously  prosperous,  and 
in  his  hands  the  Shadchan  system  did  the  most  good 
and  the  least  harm  of  which  it  is  capable. 

Another  type  of  short-distance  traveller  was  the 
Bachur,  or  student.  Not  that  his  journeys  were 
always  short,  but  he  rarely  crossed  the  sea.  In  the 
second  century  we  find  Jewish  students  in  Galilee 
behaving  as  many  Scotch  youths  did  before  the 
days  of  Carnegie  funds.  These  students  would 
study  in  Sepphoris  in  the  winter,  and  work  in  the 
fields  in  summer.  After  the  impoverishment 
caused  by  the  Bar-Cochba  war,  the  students  were 
glad  to  dine  at  the  table  of  the  wealthy  Patriarch 
Judah  I.  In  the  medieval  period  there  were  also 
such.  These  Bachurim,  who,  young  as  they  were, 
were  often  married,  accomplished  enormous  jour 
neys  on  foot.  They  walked  from  the  Rhine  to 
Vienna,  and  from  North  Germany  to  Italy.  Their 
privations  on  the  road  were  indescribable.  Bad 
weather  was  naturally  a  severe  trial.  "  Hearken 
not  to  the  prayers  of  wayfarers,"  was  the  petition 
of  those  who  stayed  at  home.  This  quaint  Tal- 
mudic  saying  refers  to  the  selfishness  of  travellers, 
who  always  clamor  for  fine  weather,  though  the 
farmer  needs  rain.  Apart  from  the  weather,  the 
Bachurim  suffered  much  on  the  road.  Their  ordi- 

135 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

nary  food  was  raw  vegetables  culled  from  the 
fields;  they  drank  nothing  but  water.  They  were 
often  accompanied  by  their  teachers,  who  under 
went  the  same  privations.  Unlike  their  Talmudi- 
cal  precursors,  they  travelled  much  by  night,  be 
cause  it  was  safer,  and  also  because  they  reserved 
the  daylight  for  study.  The  dietary  laws  make 
Jewish  travelling  particularly  irksome.  We  do, 
indeed,  find  Jews  lodging  at  the  ordinary  inns,  but 
they  could  not  join  the  general  company  at  the 
table  d'hote.  The  Sabbath,  too,  was  the  cause  of 
some  discomfort,  though  the  traveller  always  ex 
erted  his  utmost  efforts  to  reach  a  Jewish  congre- 
tion  by  Friday  evening,  sometimes,  as  we  have 
seen,  with  supernatural  aid. 

We  must  interrupt  this  account  of  the  Bachur  to 
record  a  much  earlier  instance  of  the  awkward 
situation  in  which  a  pious  Jewish  traveller  might 
find  himself  because  of  the  Sabbath  regulations. 
In  the  very  last  year  of  the  fourth  century,  Syne- 
sius,  of  Cyrene,  writing  to  his  brother  of  his  voy 
age  from  Alexandria  to  Constantinople,  supplies 
us  with  a  quaint  instance  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  Sabbath  affected  Jewish  travellers.  Synesius 
uses  a  sarcastic  tone,  which  must  not  be  taken  as 
seriously  unfriendly.  "  His  voyage  homeward," 

136 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

says  Mr.  Glover,  "  was  adventurous."  It  is  a  pity 
that  space  cannot  be  found  for  a  full  citation  of 
Synesius's  enthralling  narrative.  His  Jewish  steers 
man  is  an  entertaining  character.  There  were 
twelve  members  in  the  crew,  the  steersman  making 
the  thirteenth.  More  than  half,  including  the 
steersman,  were  Jews.  "  It  was,"  says  Syncsius, 
"  the  day  which  the  Jews  call  the  Preparation 
[Friday],  and  they  reckon  the  night  to  the  next 
day,  on  which  they  are  not  allowed  to  do  any  work, 
but  they  pay  it  especial  honor,  and  rest  on  it.  So 
the  steersman  let  go  the  helm  from  his  hands, 
when  he  thought  the  sun  would  have  set  on  the 
land,  and  threw  himself  down,  and  *  What  mari 
ner  should  choose  might  trample  him !  '  We  did 
not  at  first  understand  the  real  reason,  but  took  it 
for  despair,  and  went  to  him  and  besought  him  not 
to  give  up  all  hope  yet.  For  in  plain  fact  the  big 
rollers  still  kept  on,  and  the  sea  was  at  issue  with 
itself.  It  does  this  when  the  wind  falls,  and  the 
waves  it  has  set  going  do  not  fall  with  it,  but,  still 
retaining  in  full  force  the  impulse  that  started 
them,  meet  the  onset  of  the  gale,  and  to  its  front 
oppose  their  own.  Well,  when  people  are  sailing 
in  such  circumstances,  life  hangs,  as  they  say,  by  a 
slender  thread.  But  if  the  steersman  is  a  Rabbi 

137 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

into  the  bargain,  what  are  one's  feelings?  When, 
then,  we  understood  what  he  meant  in  leaving  the 
helm, — for  when  we  begged  him  to  save  the  ship 
from  danger,  he  went  on  reading  his  book, — we 
despaired  of  persuasion,  and  tried  force.  And  a 
gallant  soldier  (for  we  have  with  us  a  good  few 
Arabians,  who  belong  to  the  cavalry)  drew  his 
sword,  and  threatened  to  cut  his  head  off,  if  he 
would  not  steer  the  ship.  But  in  a  moment  he  was 
a  genuine  Maccabee,  and  would  stick  to  his  dogma. 
Yet  when  it  was  now  midnight,  he  took  his  place 
of  his  own  accord,  '  for  now/  says  he,  '  the  law 
allows  me,  as  we  are  clearly  in  danger  of  our 
lives.'  At  that  the  tumult  begins  again,  moaning 
of  men  and  screaming  of  women.  Everybody  be 
gan  calling  on  Heaven,  and  wailing  and  remem 
bering  their  dear  ones.  Amarantus  alone  was 
cheerful,  thinking  he  was  on  the  point  of  ruling 
out  his  creditors."  Amarantus  was  the  captain, 
who  wished  to  die,  because  he  was  deep  in  debt. 
What  with  the  devil-may-care  captain,  the  Macca- 
bean  steersman,  and  the  critical  onlooker,  who  was 
a  devoted  admirer  of  Hypatia,  rarely  has  wayfar 
ing  been  conducted  under  more  delightful  condi 
tions.  As  is  often  the  case  in  life,  the  humors  of 
the  scene  almost  obscure  the  fact  that  the  lives  of 

138 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

the  actors  were  in  real  danger.  But  all  ended  well. 
"  As  for  us,"  says  Synesius  further  on,  "  as  soon 
as  we  reached  the  land  we  longed  for,  we  embraced 
it  as  if  it  had  been  a  living  mother.  Offering,  as 
usual,  a  hymn  of  gratitude  to  God,  I  added  to  it 
the  recent  misadventure  from  which  we  had  unex 
pectedly  been  saved." 

To  return  to  our  travelling  Bachur  of  later  cen 
turies  than  Synesius's  Rabbi-steersman.  On  the 
road,  the  student  was  often  attacked,  but,  as  hap 
pened  with  the  son  of  the  great  Asheri,  who  was 
waylaid  by  bandits  near  Toledo,  the  robbers  did 
not  always  get  the  best  of  the  fight.  The  Bachur 
could  take  his  own  part.  One  Jew  gained  much 
notoriety  in  80 1  by  conducting  an  elephant  all  the 
way  from  Haroun  al-Rashid's  court  as  a  present 
to  Charlemagne,  the  king  of  the  Franks.  But  the 
Rabbi  suffered  considerably  from  his  religion  on 
his  journeys.  Dr.  Schechter  tells  us  how  the  Gaon 
Elijah  got  out  of  his  carriage  to  say  his  prayer, 
and,  as  the  driver  knew  that  the  Rabbi  wrould  not 
interrupt  his  devotions,  he  promptly  made  off, 
carrying  away  the  Gaon's  property. 

But  the  account  was  not  all  on  one  side.  If  the 
Bachur  suffered  for  his  religion,  he  received  ample 
compensation.  When  he  arrived  at  his  destina- 

139 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

tion,  he  was  welcomed  right  heartily.  We  read 
how  cordially  the  Sheliach  Kolel  was  received  in 
Algiers  in  the  fifteenth  to  eighteenth  centuries.  It 
was  a  great  popular  event,  as  is  nowadays  the  visit 
of  the  Alliance  inspector.  This  was  not  the  case 
with  all  Jewish  travellers,  some  of  whom  received 
a  very  cold  shoulder  from  their  brethren.  Why 
was  this?  Chiefly  because  the  Jews,  as  little  as 
the  rest  of  medieval  peoples,  realized  that  progress 
and  enlightenment  are  indissolubly  bound  up  with 
the  right  of  free  movement.  They  regarded  the 
right  to  move  here  and  there  at  will  as  a  selfish 
privilege  of  the  few,  not  the  just  right  of  all.  But 
more  than  that.  The  Jews  were  forced  to  live  in 
special  and  limited  Ghettos.  It  was  not  easy  to 
find  room  for  newcomers.  When  a  crisis  arrived, 
such  as  the  expulsion  of  the  Jews  from  Spain,  then, 
except  here  and  there,  the  Jews  were  generous  to  a 
fault  in  providing  for  the  exiles.  Societies  all  over 
the  Continent  and  round  the  coast  of  the  Mediter 
ranean  spent  their  time  and  money  in  ransoming 
the  poor  victims,  who,  driven  from  Spain,  were 
enslaved  by  the  captains  of  the  vessels  that  carried 
them,  and  were  then  bought  back  to  freedom  by 
their  Jewish  brethren. 

This  is  a  noble  fact  in  Jewish  history.     But  it  is 
140 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

nevertheless  true  that  Jewish  communities  were 
reluctant  in  ordinary  times  to  permit  new  settle 
ments.  This  was  not  so  in  ancient  times.  Among 
the  Essenes,  a  newcomer  had  a  perfectly  equal 
right  to  share  everything  with  the  old  inhabitants. 
These  Essenes  were  great  travellers,  going  from 
city  to  city,  probably  with  propagandist  aims.  In 
the  Talmudic  law  there  are  very  clear  rules  on  the 
subject  of  passers  through  a  town  or  immigrants 
into  it.  By  that  law  persons  staying  in  a  place  for 
less  than  thirty  days  were  free  from  all  local  dues 
except  special  collections  for  the  poor.  He  who 
stayed  less  than  a  year  contributed  to  the  ordinary 
poor  relief,  but  was  not  taxed  for  permanent  ob 
jects,  such  as  walling  the  town,  defences,  etc.,  nor 
did  he  contribute  to  the  salaries  of  teachers  and 
officials,  nor  the  building  and  support  of  syna 
gogues.  But  as  his  duties  were  small,  so  were  his 
rights.  After  a  twelve  months'  stay  he  became  a 
"  son  of  the  city,"  a  full  member  of  the  commun 
ity.  But  in  the  Middle  Ages,  newcomers,  as  al 
ready  said,  were  not  generally  welcome.  The  ques 
tion  of  space  was  one  important  reason,  for  all 
newcomers  had  to  stay  in  the  Ghetto.  Secondly, 
the  newcomer  was  not  amenable  to  discipline. 
Local  custom  varied  much  in  the  details  both  of 

141 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

Jewish  and  general  law.  The  new  settler  might 
claim  to  retain  his  old  customs,  and  the  regard  for 
local  custom  was  so  strong  that  the  claim  was  often 
allowed,  to  the  destruction  of  uniformity  and  the 
undermining  of  authority.  To  give  an  instance  or 
two:  A  newcomer  would  insist  that,  as  he  might 
play  cards  in  his  native  town,  he  ought  not  to  be 
expected  to  obey  puritanical  restrictions  in  the 
place  to  which  he  came.  The  result  was  that  the 
resident  Jews  would  clamor  against  foreigners 
enjoying  special  privileges,  as  in  this  way  all  at 
tempts  to  control  gambling  might  be  defeated.  Or 
the  newcomer  would  claim  to  shave  his  beard  in 
accordance  with  his  home  custom,  but  to  the  scan 
dal  of  the  town  which  he  was  visiting.  The  native 
young  men  would  imitate  the  foreigner,  and  then 
there  would  be  trouble.  Or  the  settler  would  as 
sert  his  right  to  wear  colors  and  fashions  and  jew 
elry  forbidden  to  native  Jews.  Again,  the  mar 
riage  problem  was  complicated  by  the  arrival  of 
insinuating  strangers,  who  turned  out  to  be  mar 
ried  men  masquerading  as  bachelors.  Then  as  to 
public  worship — the  congregation  was  often  split 
into  fragments  by  the  independent  services  organ 
ized  by  foreign  groups,  and  it  would  become  neces 
sary  to  prohibit  its  own  members  from  attending 

142 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

the  synagogues  of  foreign  settlers.  Then  as  to 
communal  taxes :  these  were  fixed  annually  on  the 
basis  of  the  population,  and  the  arrival  of  new 
comers  seriously  disturbed  the  equilibrium,  led  to 
fresh  exactions  by  the  Government,  which  it  was  by 
no  means  certain  the  new  settlers  could  or  would 
pay,  and  which,  therefore,  fell  on  the  shoulders  of 
the  old  residents. 

When  we  consider  all  these  facts,  we  can  see  that 
the  eagerness  of  the  medieval  Jews  to  control  the 
influx  of  foreign  settlers  was  only  in  part  the  result 
of  base  motives.  And,  of  course,  the  exclusion  was 
not  permanent  or  rigid.  In  Rome,  the  Sefardic 
and  the  Italian  Jews  fraternally  placed  their  syna 
gogues  on  different  floors  of  the  same  building.  In 
some  German  towns,  the  foreign  synagogue  was 
fixed  in  the  same  courtyard  as  the  native.  Every 
where  foreign  Jews  abounded,  and  everywhere  a 
generous  welcome  awaited  the  genuine  traveller. 

As  to  the  travelling  beggar,  he  was  a  perpetual 
nuisance.  Yet  he  was  treated  with  much  consid 
eration.  The  policy  with  regard  to  him  was, 
"  Send  the  beggar  further,"  and  this  suited  the 
tramp,  too.  He  did  not  wish  to  settle,  he  wished 
to  move  on.  He  would  be  lodged  for  two  days  in 
the  communal  inn,  or  if,  as  usually  happened,  he 

143 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

arrived  on  Friday  evening,  he  would  be  billeted  on 
some  hospitable  member,  or  the  Shamash  would 
look  after  him  at  the  public  expense.  It  is  not  till 
the  thirteenth  century  that  we  meet  regular  envoys 
sent  from  Palestine  to  collect  money. 

The  genuine  traveller,  however,  was  an  ever- 
welcome  guest.  If  he  came  at  fair  time,  his  way 
was  smoothed  for  him.  The  Jew  who  visited  the 
fair  was  only  rarely  charged  local  taxes  by  the 
Synagogue.  He  deserved  a  welcome,  for  he  not 
only  brought  wares  to  sell,  but  he  came  laden  with 
new  books.  The  fair  was  the  only  book-market. 
At  other  times  the  Jews  were  dependent  on  the 
casual  visits  of  travelling  venders  of  volumes. 
Book-selling  does  not  seem  to  have  been  a  settled 
occupation  in  the  Middle  Ages.  The  merchant 
who  came  to  the  fair  also  fulfilled  another  function 
— that  of  Shadchan.  The  day  of  the  fair  was,  in 
fact,  the  crisis  of  the  year.  Naturally,  the  letter- 
carrier  was  eagerly  received.  In  the  early  part  of 
the  eighteenth  century  the  function  of  conveying 
the  post  was  sometimes  filled  by  Jewesses. 

Even  the  ordinary  traveller,  who  had  no  busi 
ness  to  transact,  would  often  choose  fair  time  for 
visiting  new  places,  for  he  would  be  sure  to  meet 
interesting  people  then.  He,  too,  would  mostly 

144 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

arrive  on  a  Friday  evening,  and  would  beguile  the 
Sabbath  with  reports  of  the  wonders  he  had  seen. 
In  the  great  synagogue  of  Sepphoris,  Jochanan  was 
discoursing  of  the  great  pearl,  so  gigantic  in  size 
that  the  Eastern  gates  of  the  Temple  were  to  be 
built  of  the  single  gem.  "  Ay,  ay,"  assented  an 
auditor,  who  had  been  a  notorious  skeptic  until  he 
had  become  a  shipwrecked  sailor,  "  had  not  mine 
own  eyes  beheld  such  a  pearl  in  the  ocean-bed,  I 
should  not  have  believed  it.'5  And  so  the  medieval 
traveller  would  tell  his  enthralling  tales.  He  would 
speak  of  a  mighty  Jewish  kingdom  in  the  East, 
existing  in  idyllic  peace  and  prosperity;  he  would 
excite  his  auditors  with  news  of  the  latest  Messiah ; 
he  would  describe  the  river  Sambatyon,  which 
keeps  the  Sabbath,  and,  mingling  truth  with  fiction, 
with  one  breath  would  truly  relate  how  he  crossed  a 
river  on  an  inflated  skin,  and  with  the  next  breath 
romance  about  Hillel's  tomb,  how  he  had  been 
there,  and  how  he  had  seen  a  large  hollow  stone, 
which  remains  empty  if  a  bad  fellow  enters,  but  at 
the  approach  of  a  pious  visitor  fills  up  with  sweet, 
pure  water,  with  which  he  washes,  uttering  a  wish 
at  the  same  time,  sure  that  it  will  come  true.  It 
is  impossible  even  to  hint  at  all  the  wonders  of 
the  tombs.  Jews  were  ardent  believers  in  the 
10  145 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

supernatural  power  of  sepulchres;  they  made  pil 
grimages  to  them  to  pray  and  to  beg  favors.  Jew 
ish  travellers'  tales  of  the  Middle  Ages  are  heavily 
laden  with  these  legends.  Of  course,  the  traveller 
would  also  bring  genuine  news  about  his  brethren 
in  distant  parts,  and  sober  information  about  for 
eign  countries,  their  ways,  their  physical  conforma 
tion,  and  their  strange  birds  and  beasts.  These 
stories  were  in  the  main  true.  For  instance,  Pe- 
tachiah  tells  of  a  flying  camel,  which  runs  fifteen 
times  as  fast  as  the  fleetest  horse.  He  must  have 
seen  an  ostrich,  which  is  still  called  the  flying  camel 
by  Arabs.  But  we  cannot  linger  over  this  matter. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that,  as  soon  as  Sabbath  was  over, 
the  traveller's  narrative  would  be  written  out  by 
the  local  scribe,  and  treasured  as  one  of  the  com 
munal  prizes.  The  traveller,  on  his  part,  often 
kept  a  diary,  and  himself  compiled  a  description 
of  his  adventures.  In  some  congregations  there 
was  kept  a  Communal  Note-Book,  in  which  were 
entered  decisions  brought  by  visiting  Rabbis  from 
other  communities. 

The  most  welcome  of  guests,  even  more  wel 
come  than  long-distance  travellers,  or  globe-trot 
ters,  were  the  Bachurim  and  travelling  Rabbis. 
The  Talmudic  Rabbis  were  most  of  them  travel- 

146 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

lers.  Akiba's  extensive  journeys  were,  some  think, 
designed  to  rouse  the  Jews  of  Asia  Minor  gen 
erally  to  participate  in  the  insurrection  against  Ha 
drian.  But  my  narrative  must  be  at  this  point 
confined  to  the  medieval  students.  For  the  Bachu- 
rim,  or  students,  there  was  a  special  house  in  many 
communities,  and  they  lived  together  with  their 
teachers.  In  the  twelfth  century,  the  great  acad 
emy  of  Narbonne,  under  Abraham  ibn  Baud,  at 
tracted  crowds  of  foreign  students.  These,  as 
Benjamin  of  Tudela  tells  us,  were  fed  and  clothed 
at  the  communal  cost.  At  Beaucaire,  the  students 
were  housed  and  supported  at  the"  teacher's  ex 
pense.  In  the  seventeenth  century,  the  students 
not  only  were  paid  small  bursaries,  but  every  house 
hold  entertained  one  or  more  of  them  at  table. 
In  these  circumstances  their  life  was  by  no  means 
dull  or  monotonous.  A  Jewish  student  endures 
much,  but  he  knows  how  to  get  the  best  out  of  life. 
This  optimism,  this  quickness  of  humor,  saved  the 
Rabbi  and  his  pupil  from  many  a  melancholy  hour. 
Take  Abraham  ibn  Ezra,  for  instance.  If  ever  a 
man  was  marked  out  to  be  a  bitter  reviler  of  fate, 
it  was  he.  But  he  laughed  at  fate.  He  gaily  wan 
dered  from  his  native  Spain  over  many  lands  pen 
niless,  travelled  with  no  baggage  but  his  thoughts, 

147 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

visited  Italy  and  France,  and  even  reached  London, 
where,  perhaps,  he  died.  Fortune  ill-treated  him, 
but  he  found  many  joys.  Wherever  he  went,  pat 
rons  held  out  their  hand. 

Travelling  students  found  many  such  generous 
lovers  of  learning,  who,  with  their  wealth,  encour 
aged  their  guests  to  write  original  works  or  copy 
out  older  books,  which  the  patrons  then  passed  on 
to  poor  scholars  in  want  of  a  library.  The  legend 
is  told,  how  the  prophet  Elijah  visited  Hebron, 
and  was  not  "  called  up  "  in  the  synagogue.  Re 
ceiving  no  Aliyah  on  earth,  he  returned  to  his  eleva 
tion  in  Heaven.  It  was  thus  imprudent  to  deny 
honor  to  angels  unawares.  Usually  the  scholar  was 
treated  as  such  a  possible  angel.  When  he  ar 
rived,  the  whole  congregation  would  turn  out  to 
meet  him.  He  would  be  taken  in  procession  to  the 
synagogue,  where  he  would  say  the  benediction 
ha-Gomel,  in  thanks  for  his  safety  on  the  road. 
Perhaps  he  would  address  the  congregation, 
though  he  would  do  that  rather  in  the  school  than 
in  the  synagogue.  Then  a  banquet  would  be  spread 
for  him.  This  banquet  was  called  one  of  the  Seu- 
doth  Mitzvah,  i.  e.  "  commandment  meals,"  to 
which  it  was  a  duty  of  all  pious  men  to  contribute 
their  money  and  their  own  attendance.  It  would 

148 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

be  held  in  the  communal  hall,  used  mostly  for  mar 
riage  feasts.  When  a  wedding  party  came  from 
afar,  similar  steps  for  general  enjoyment  were 
taken.  Men  mounted  on  horseback  went  forth  to 
welcome  the  bride,  mimic  tournaments  were  fought 
en  route,  torch-light  processions  were  made  if  it 
were  night  time,  processions  by  boats  if  it  were  in 
Italy  or  by  the  Rhine,  a  band  of  communal  musi 
cians,  retained  at  general  cost,  played  merry 
marches,  and  everyone  danced  and  joined  in  the 
choruses.  These  musicians  often  went  from  town 
to  town,  and  the  Jewish  players  were  hired  for 
Gentile  parties,  just  as  Jews  employed  Christian  or 
Arab  musicians  to  help  make  merry  on  the  Jewish 
Sabbaths  and  festivals. 

We  need  not  wonder,  then,  that  a  traveller  like 
Ibn  Ezra  was  no  croaker,  but  a  genial  critic  of  life. 
He  suffered,  but  he  was  light-hearted  enough  to 
compose  witty  epigrams  and  improvise  rollicking 
wine  songs.  He  was  an  accomplished  chess  player, 
and  no  doubt  did  something  to  spread  the  Eastern 
game  in  Europe.  Another  service  rendered  by 
such  travellers  was  the  spread  of  learning  by  their 
translations.  Their  wanderings  made  them  great 
linguists,  and  they  were  thus  able  to  translate  medi 
cal,  astronomical,  and  scientific  works  wherever 

149 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

they  went.  They  were  also  sent  by  kings  on  mis 
sions  to  collect  new  nautical  instruments.  Thus, 
the  baculus,  which  helped  Columbus  to  discover 
America,  was  taken  to  Portugal  by  Jews,  and  a 
French  Jew  was  its  inventor.  They  were  much  in 
demand  as  travelling  doctors,  being  summoned 
from  afar  to  effect  specific  cures.  But  they  also 
carried  other  delights  with  them.  Not  only  were 
they  among  the  troubadours,  but  they  were  also  the 
most  famous  of  the  travelling  conteurs.  It  was 
the  Jews,  like  Berechiah,  Charizi,  Zabara,  Abra 
ham  ibn  Chasdai,  and  other  incessant  travellers, 
who  helped  to  bring  to  Europe  ^Esop,  Bidpai,  the 
Buddhist  legends,  who  "  translated  them  from  the 
Indian,"  and  were  partly  responsible  for  this  rich 
poetical  gift  to  the  Western  wrorld. 

Looking  back  on  such  a  life,  Ibn  Ezra  might 
well  detect  a  Divine  Providence  in  his  own  pains 
and  sorrows.  So,  Jew-like,  he  retained  his  hope  to 
the  last,  and  after  his  buffetings  on  the  troubled 
seas  of  life,  remembering  the  beneficent  results  of 
his  travels  to  others,  if  not  to  himself,  he  could 
write  in  this  faithful  strain: 

My  hope  God  knoweth  well, 

My  life  He  made  full  sweet; 
Whene'er  His  servant  fell, 

God  raised  him  to  his  feet. 
150 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

Within  the  garment  of  His  grace, 

My  faults  He  did  enfold, 
Hiding  my  sin,  His  kindly  face 

My  God  did  ne'er  withhold. 
Requiting  with  fresh  good, 

My  black  ingratitude. 

There  remain  the  great  merchant  travellers  to 
be  told  about.  They  sailed  over  all  the  world,  and 
brought  to  Europe  the  wares,  the  products,  the 
luxuries  of  the  East.  They  had  their  own  peculiar 
dangers.  Shipwreck  was  the  fate  of  others  besides 
themselves,  but  they  were  peculiarly  liable  to  cap 
ture  and  sale  as  slaves.  Foremost  among  their 
more  normal  hardships  I  should  place  the  bridge 
laws  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  bridges  were  some 
times  practically  maintained  by  the  Jewish  tolls.  In 
England,  before  1290,  a  Jew  paid  a  toll  of  a  half 
penny  on  foot  and  a  full  penny  on  horseback — 
large  sums  in  those  days.  A  "  dead  Jew  "  paid 
eightpence.  Burial  was  for  a  long  time  lawful 
only  in  London,  and  the  total  toll  paid  for  bring 
ing  a  dead  Jew  to  London  over  the  various  bridges 
must  have  been  considerable.  In  the  Kurpfalz, 
for  instance,  the  Jewish  traveller  had  to  pay  the 
usual  "  white  penny  "  for  every  mile,  but  also  a 
heavy  general  fee  for  the  whole  journey.  If  he 

151 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

was  found  without  his  ticket  of  leave,  he  was  at 
once  arrested.  But  it  was  when  he  came  to  a 
bridge  that  the  exactions  grew  insufferable.  The 
regulations  were  somewhat  tricky,  for  the  Jew  was 
specially  taxed  only  on  Sundays  and  the  Festivals 
of  the  Church.  But  every  other  day  was  some 
Saint's  Festival,  and  while,  in  Mannheim,  even  on 
those  days  the  Christian  traveller  paid  one  kreu- 
zer  if  he  crossed  the  bridge  on  foot,  and  two  if  on 
horseback,  the  Jew  was  charged  four  kreuzer  if 
on  foot,  twelve  if  on  a  horse,  and  for  every  beast 
of  burden  he,  unlike  the  Christian  wayfarer,  paid 
a  further  toll  of  eight  kreuzer.  The  Jewish  quar 
ter  often  lay  near  the  river,  and  Jews  had  great  oc 
casion  for  crossing  the  bridges,  even  for  local 
needs.  In  Venice,  the  Jewish  quarter  was  natu 
rally  intersected  by  bridges ;  in  Rome  there  was  the 
pons  Judeorum,  which,  no  doubt,  the  Jews  had  to 
maintain  in  repair.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
many  local  Jewish  communities  paid  a  regular 
bridge  tax  which  was  not  exacted  from  Christians, 
and  when  all  this  is  considered,  it  will  be  seen  that 
the  Jewish  merchant  needed  to  work  hard  and  go 
far  afield,  if  he  was  to  get  any  profit  from  his 
enterprises. 

Nevertheless,    these    Jews    owned    horses    and 
152 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

caravans,  and  sailed  their  own  ships  long  before 
the  time  when  great  merchants,  like  the  English 
Jew  Antonio  Fernandes  Carvajal,  traded  in 
their  own  vessels  between  London  and  the  Cana 
ries.  We  hear  of  Palestinian  Jews  in  the  third 
century  and  of  Italian  Jews  in  the  fifth  century 
with  ships  of  their  own.  Jewish  sailors  abounded 
on  the  Mediterranean,  which  tended  to  become 
a  Jewish  lake.  The  trade  routes  of  the  Jews 
were  chiefly  two.  "  By  one  route,"  says  Beazley, 
"  they  sailed  from  the  ports  of  France  and  Italy 
to  the  Isthmus  of  Suez,  and  thence  down  the 
Red  Sea  to  India  and  Farther  Asia.  By  an 
other  course,  they  transported  the  goods  of  the 
West  to  the  Syrian  coast;  up  the  Orontes  to 
Antioch;  down  the  Euphrates  to  Bassora;  and 
so  along  the  Persian  Gulf  to  Oman  and  the 
Southern  Ocean."  Further,  there  were  two  chief 
overland  routes.  On  the  one  side  merchants  left 
Spain,  traversed  the  straits  of  Gibraltar,  went  by 
caravan  from  Tangier  along  the  northern  fringe 
of  the  desert,  to  Egypt,  Syria,  and  Persia.  This 
was  the  southern  route.  Then  there  was  the  north 
ern  route,  through  Germany,  across  the  country  of 
the  Slavs  to  the  Lower  Volga;  thence,  descending 
the  river,  they  sailed  across  the  Caspian.  Then  the 

153 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

traveller  proceeded  along  the  Oxus  valley  to 
Balkh,  and,  turning  north-east,  traversed  the  coun 
try  of  the  Tagazgaz  Turks,  and  found  himself  at 
last  on  the  frontier  of  China.  When  one  realizes 
the  extent  of  such  a  journey,  it  is  not  surprising  to 
hear  that  the  greatest  authorities  are  agreed  that 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  before  the  rise  of  the  Italian 
trading  republics,  the  Jews  were  the  chief  middle 
men  between  Europe  and  Asia.  Their  vast  com 
mercial  undertakings  were  productive  of  much 
good.  Not  only  did  the  Jews  bring  to  Europe  new 
articles  of  food  and  luxury,  but  they  served  the 
various  States  as  envoys  and  as  intelligencers.  The 
great  Anglo-Jewish  merchant  Carvajal  provided 
Cromwell  with  valuable  information,  as  other  Jew 
ish  merchants  had  done  to  other  rulers  of  whom 
they  were  loyal  servants.  In  the  fifteenth  century 
Henry  of  Portugal  applied  to  Jews  for  intelligence 
respecting  the  interior  of  Africa,  and  a  little  later 
John,  king  of  the  same  land,  derived  accurate  in 
formation  respecting  India  from  two  Jewish  trav 
ellers  that  had  spent  many  years  at  Ormuz  and 
Calcutta.  But  it  is  unnecessary  to  add  more  facts 
of  this  type.  The  Jewish  merchant  traveller  was 
no  mere  tradesman.  He  observed  the  country, 
especially  did  he  note  the  numbers  and  occupations 

154 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

of  the  Jews,  their  synagogues,  their  schools,  their 
vices,  and  their  virtues. 

In  truth,  the  Jewish  traveller,  as  he  got  farther 
from  home,  was  more  at  home  than  many  of  his 
contemporaries  of  other  faiths  when  they  were  at 
home.  He  kept  alive  that  sense  of  the  oneness  of 
Judaism  which  could  be  most  strongly  and  com 
pletely  achieved  because  there  was  no  political  bias 
to  separate  it  into  hostile  camps. 

But  the  interest  between  the  traveller  and  his 
home  was  maintained  by  another  bond.  A  strik 
ing  feature  of  Jewish  wayfaring  life  was  the  writ 
ing  of  letters  home.  The  "  Book  of  the  Pious,"  com 
posed  about  1 200,  says:  "  He  that  departs  from 
the  city  where  his  father  and  mother  live,  and 
travels  to  a  place  of  danger,  and  his  father  and 
mother  are  anxious  on  account  of  him;  it  is  the 
bounden  duty  of  the  son  to  hire  a  messenger  as 
soon  as  he  can  and  despatch  a  letter  to  his  father 
and  mother,  telling  them  when  he  departs  from 
the  place  of  danger,  that  their  anxiety  may  be  al 
layed."  Twice  a  year  all  Jews  wrote  family  let 
ters,  at  the  New  Year  and  the  Passover,  and  they 
sent  special  greetings  on  birthdays.  But  the  trav 
eller  was  the  chief  letter-writer.  "  O  my  father," 
wrote  the  famous  Obadiah  of  Bertinoro,  in  1488, 

155 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

"  my  departure  from  thee  has  caused  thee  sorrow 
and  suffering,  and  I  am  inconsolable  that  I  was 
forced  to  leave  at  the  time  when  age  was  creeping 
on  thee.  When  I  think  of  thy  grey  hairs,  which  I 
no  longer  see,  my  eyes  flow  over  with  tears.  But 
if  the  happiness  of  serving  thee  in  person  is  denied 
to  me,  yet  I  can  at  least  serve  thee  as  thou  desirest, 
by  writing  to  thee  of  my  journey,  by  pouring  my 
soul  out  to  thee,  by  a  full  narrative  of  what  I  have 
seen  and  of  the  state  and  manners  of  the  Jews  in 
all  the  places  where  I  have  dwelt."  After  a  long 
and  valuable  narrative,  he  concludes  in  this  loving 
strain:  "  I  have  taken  me  a  house  in  Jerusalem 
near  the  synagogue,  and  my  window  overlooks  it. 
In  the  court  where  my  house  is,  there  live  five 
women,  and  only  one  other  man  besides  myself. 
He  is  blind,  and  his  wife  attends  to  my  needs.  God 
be  thanked,  I  have  escaped  the  sickness  which  af 
fects  nearly  all  travellers  here.  And  I  entreat  you, 
weep  not  at  my  absence,  but  rejoice  in  my  joy,  that 
I  am  in  the  Holy  City.  I  take  God  to  witness  that 
here  the  thought  of  all  my  sufferings  vanishes,  and 
but  one  image  is  before  my  eyes,  thy  dear  face,  O 
my  father.  Let  me  feel  that  I  can  picture  that 
face  to  me,  not  clouded  with  tears,  but  lit  with  joy. 
You  have  other  children  around  you;  make  them 

156 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

your  joy,  and  let  my  letters,  which  I  will  ever  and 
anon  renew,  bring  solace  to  your  age,  as  your  let 
ters  bring  solace  to  me." 

Much  more  numerous  than  the  epistles  of  sons 
to  fathers  are  the  letters  of  fathers  to  their  fami 
lies.  When  these  come  from  Palestine,  there  is 
the  same  mingling  of  pious  joy  and  human  sorrow 
• — joy  to  be  in  the  Holy  Land,  sorrow  to  be  sep 
arated  from  home.  Another  source  of  grief  was 
the  desolation  of  Palestine. 

One  such  letter-writer  tells  sadly  how  he  walked 
through  the  market  at  Zion,  thought  of  the  past, 
and  only  kept  back  his  tears  lest  the  Arab  onlook 
ers  should  see  and  ridicule  his  sorrow.  Yet  an 
other  medieval  letter-writer,  Nachmanides,  reaches 
the  summit  of  sentiment  in  these  lines,  which  I  take 
from  Dr.  Schechter's  translation:  "I  was  exiled 
by  force  from  home,  I  left  my  sons  and  daughters; 
and  with  the  dear  and  sweet  ones  whom  I  brought 
up  on  my  knees,  I  left  my  soul  behind  me.  My 
heart  and  my  eyes  will  dwell  with  them  forever. 
But  O  !  the  joy  of  a  day  in  thy  courts,  O  Jerusalem  ! 
visiting  the  ruins  of  the  Temple  and  crying  over 
the  desolate  Sanctuary;  where  I  am  permitted  to 
caress  thy  stones,  to  fondle  thy  dust,  and  to  weep 
over  thy  ruins.  I  wept  bitterly,  but  found  joy  in 
my  tears.'* 

157 


MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

And  with  this  thought  in  our  mind  we  will  take 
leave  of  our  subject.  It  is  the  traveller  who  can 
best  discern,  amid  the  ruins  wrought  by  man,  the 
hope  of  a  Divine  rebuilding.  Over  the  heavy  hills 
of  strife,  he  sees  the  coming  dawn  of  peace.  The 
world  must  still  pass  through  much  tribulation  be 
fore  the  new  Jerusalem  shall  arise,  to  enfold  in  its 
loving  embrace  all  countries  and  all  men.  But  the 
traveller,  more  than  any  other,  hastens  the  good 
time.  He  overbridges  seas,  he  draws  nations 
nearer;  he  shows  men  that  there  are  many  ways  of 
living  and  of  loving.  He  teaches  them  to  be  tol 
erant;  he  humanizes  them  by  presenting  their 
brothers  to  them.  The  traveller  it  is  who  prepares 
a  way  in  the  wilderness,  who  makes  straight  in  the 
desert  a  highway  for  the  Lord. 

[Notes,  pp.  305-306] 


158 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

Pliny  says  that  by  eating  the  palpitating  heart 
of  a  mole  one  acquires  the  faculty  of  divining  fu 
ture  events.  In  "Westward  Ho!"  the  Spanish 
prisoners  beseech  their  English  foe,  Mr.  Oxenham, 
not  to  leave  them  in  the  hands  of  the  Cimaroons, 
for  the  latter  invariably  ate  the  hearts  of  all  that 
fell  into  their  hands,  after  roasting  them  alive. 
"  Do  you  know,"  asks  Mr.  Alston  in  the  "  Witch's 
Head,"  "  what  those  Basutu  devils  would  have 
done  if  they  had  caught  us?  They  would  have 
skinned  us,  and  made  our  hearts  into  mouti  [medi 
cine]  and  eaten  them,  to  give  them  the  courage  of 
the  white  man."  Ibn  Verga,  the  author  of  a  six 
teenth  century  account  of  Jewish  martyrs,  records 
the  following  strange  story:  "  I  have  heard  that 
some  people  in  Spain  once  brought  the  accusation 
that  they  had  found,  in  the  house  of  a  Jew,  a  lad 
slain,  and  his  breast  rent  near  the  heart.  They 
asserted  that  the  Jews  had  extracted  his  heart  to 
employ  it  at  their  festival.  Don  Solomon,  the 
Levite,  who  was  a  learned  man  and  a  Cabbalist, 

159 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

placed  the  Holy  Name  under  the  lad's  tongue. 
The  lad  then  awoke  and  told  who  had  slain  him, 
and  who  had  removed  his  heart,  with  the  object 
of  accusing  the  poor  Jews.  I  have  not,"  adds  the 
author  of  the  Shebet  Jehudah,  "  seen  this  story 
in  writing,  but  I  have  heard  it  related." 

We  have  the  authority  of  Dr.  Ploss  for  the 
statement  that  among  the  Slavs  witches  produce 
considerable  disquiet  in  families,  into  which,  folk 
say,  they  penetrate  in  the  disguise  of  hens  or  butter 
flies.  They  steal  the  hearts  of  children  in  order  to 
eat  them.  They  strike  the  child  on  the  left  side 
with  a  little  rod ;  the  breast  opens,  and  the  witches 
tear  out  the  heart,  and  devour  every  atom  of  it. 
Thereupon  the  wound  closes  up  of  itself,  without 
leaving  a  trace  of  what  has  been  done.  The  child 
dies  either  immediately  or  soon  afterwards,  as  the 
witch  chooses.  Many  children's  illnesses  are  at 
tributed  to  this  cause.  If  one  of  these  witches  is 
caught  asleep,  the  people  seize  her,  and  move  her 
so  as  to  place  her  head  where  her  feet  were  before. 
On  awaking,  she  has  lost  all  her  power  for  evil,  and 
is  transformed  into  a  medicine-woman,  who  is 
acquainted  with  the  healing  effects  of  every  herb, 
and  aids  in  curing  children  of  their  diseases.  In 
Heine's  poem,  "  The  Pilgrimage  to  Kevlaar,"  the 

160 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

love-lorn  youth  seeks  the  cure  of  his  heart's  ill  by 
placing  a  waxen  heart  on  the  shrine.  This  is  un 
questionably  the  most  exquisite  use  in  literature  of 
the  heart  as  a  charm. 

Two  or  three  of  the  stories  that  I  have  noted 
dowrn  on  the  gruesome  subject  of  heart-eating  have 
been  given  above.  Such  ideas  were  abhorrent  to 
the  Jewish  conscience,  and  the  use  of  the  heart  torn 
from  a  living  animal  was  regarded  as  characteris 
tic  of  idolatry  (Jerusalem  Talmud,  Aboda  Zara, 
ii,  4ib).  In  the  Book  of  Tobit  a  fish's  heart  plays 
a  part,  but  it  is  detached  from  the  dead  animal,  and 
is  not  eaten.  It  forms  an  ingredient  of  the  smoke 
which  exorcises  the  demon  that  is  troubling  the 
heroine  Sarah. 

I  have  not  come  across  any  passage  in  the  Jew 
ish  Midrashim  that  ascribes  to  "  heart-eating," 
even  in  folk-lore,  the  virtue  of  bestowing  wisdom. 
Aristotle  seems  to  lend  his  authority  to  some  such 
notion  as  that  I  have  quoted  from  Pliny,  when  he 
says,  "  Man  alone  presents  the  phenomenon  of 
heart-beating,  because  he  alone  is  moved  by  hope 
and  by  expectation  of  what  is  coming."  As 
George  H.  Lewes  remarked,  it  is  quite  evident  that 
Aristotle  could  never  have  held  a  bird  in  his  hand. 
The  idea,  however,  that  eating  the  heart  of  an 
11  161 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

animal  has  wisdom-conferring  virtue  seems  to 
underlie  a  very  interesting  Hebrew  fable  published 
by  Dr.  Steinschneider,  in  his  Alphabetum  Siracidis. 
The  Angel  of  Death  had  demanded  of  God  the 
power  to  slay  all  living  things. 

"  The  Holy  One  replied,  '  Cast  a  pair  of  each  species  into  the 
sea,  and  then  thou  shalt  have  dominion  over  all  that  remain  of 
the  species.'  The  Angel  did  so  forthwith,  and  he  cast  a  pair  of 
each  kind  into  the  sea.  When  the  fox  saw  what  he  was  about, 
what  did  he  do?  At  once  he  stood  and  wept.  Then  said  the 
Angel  of  Death  unto  him,  '  Why  weepest  thou  ?  '  '  For  my  com 
panions,  whom  thou  hast  cast  into  the  sea,'  answered  the  fox. 
'  Where,  then,  are  thy  companions  ? '  said  the  Angel.  The  fox 
ran  to  the  sea-shore  [with  his  wife],  and  the  Angel  of  Death 
beheld  the  reflection  of  the  fox  in  the  water,  and  he  thought  that 
he  had  already  cast  in  a  pair  of  foxes,  so,  addressing  the  fox 
by  his  side,  he  cried,  '  Be  off  with  you !  '  The  fox  at  once  fled 
and  escaped.  The  wreasel  met  him,  and  the  fox  related  what  had 
happened,  and  what  he  had  done;  and  so  the  weasel  went  and 
did  likewise. 

"  At  the  end  of  the  year,  the  leviathan  assembled  all  the  crea 
tures  in  the  sea,  and  lo!  the  fox  and  the  weasel  were  missing, 
for  they  had  not  come  into  the  sea.  He  sent  to  ask,  and  he  was 
told  how  the  fox  and  the  weasel  had  escaped  through  their  wis 
dom.  They  taunted  the  leviathan,  saying,  '  The  fox  is  exceed 
ingly  cunning.'  The  leviathan  felt  uneasy  and  envious,  and  he 
sent  a  deputation  of  great  fishes,  with  the  order  that  they  were 
to  deceive  the  fox,  and  bring  him  before  him.  They  went,  and 
found  him  by  the  sea-shore.  When  the  fox  saw  the  fishes  dis- 

162 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

porting  themselves  near  the  bank,  he  was  surprised,  and  he  went 
among  them.  They  beheld  him,  and  asked,  'Who  art  thou?' 
'  I  am  the  fox,'  said  he.  '  Knowest  thou  not,'  continued  the 
fishes,  '  that  a  great  honor  is  in  store  for  thee,  and  that  we  have 
come  here  on  thy  behalf?'  'What  is  it?'  asked  the  fox.  'The 
leviathan, '  they  said,  '  is  sick,  and  like  to  die.  He  has  appointed 
thee  to  reign  in  his  stead,  for  he  has  heard  that  thou  art  wiser 
and  more  prudent  than  all  other  animals.  Come  with  us,  for 
we  are  his  messengers,  and  are  here  to  thy  honor.'  '  But,'  ob 
jected  the  fox,  '  how  can  I  come  into  the  sea  without  being 
drowned  ?  '  '  Nay,'  said  the  fishes ;  '  ride  upon  one  of  us,  and 
he  will  carry  thee  above  the  sea,  so  that  not  even  a  drop  of  water 
shall  touch  so  much  as  the  soles  of  thy  feet,  until  thou  readiest 
the  kingdom.  We  will  take  thee  down  without  thy  knowing  it. 
Come  with  us,  and  reign  over  us,  and  be  king,  and  be  joyful 
all  thy  days.  No  more  wilt  thou  need  to  seek  for  food,  nor  will 
wild  beasts,  stronger  than  thou,  meet  thee  and  devour  thee.' 

"  The  fox  heard  and  believed  their  words.  He  rode  upon  one 
of  them,  and  they  went  with  him  into  the  sea.  Soon,  however, 
the  waves  dashed  over  him,  and  he  began  to  perceive  that  he 
had  been  tricked.  '  Woe  is  me !  '  wailed  the  fox,  '  what  have  I 
done?  I  have  played  many  a  trick  on  others,  but  these  fishes 
have  played  one  on  me  worth  all  mine  put  together.  Now  I  have 
fallen  into  their  hands,  how  shall  I  free  myself?  Indeed,'  he 
said,  turning  to  the  fishes,  '  now  that  I  am  fully  in  your  power, 
I  shall  speak  the  truth.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?' 
'To  tell  thee  the  truth,'  replied  the  fishes,  'the  leviathan  has 
heard  thy  fame,  that  thou  art  very  wise,  and  he  said,  I  will 
rend  the  fox,  and  will  eat  his  heart,  and  thus  I  shall  become 
wise.'  '  Oh !  '  said  the  fox,  *  why  did  you  not  tell  me  the 

163 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

truth  at  first?  I  should  then  have  brought  my  heart  with  me, 
and  I  should  have  given  it  to  King  Leviathan,  and  he  would 
have  honored  me ;  but  now  ye  are  in  an  evil  plight.'  '  What ! 
thou  hast  not  thy  heart  with  thee  ?  '  '  Certainly  not.  It  is  our 
custom  to  leave  our  heart  at  home  while  we  go  about  from  place 
to  place.  When  we  need  our  heart,  we  take  it;  otherwise  it 
remains  at  home.'  'What  must  we  do?'  asked  the  bewildered 
fishes.  '  My  house  and  dwelling-place,'  replied  the  fox,  '  are  by 
the  sea-shore.  If  you  like,  carry  me  back  to  the  place  whence 
you  brought  me,  I  will  fetch  my  heart,  and  will  come  again  with 
you.  I  will  present  my  heart  to  Leviathan,  and  he  will  reward 
me  and  you  with  honors.  But  if  you  take  me  thus,  without  my 
heart,  he  will  be  wroth  with  you,  and  will  devour  you.  I  have 
no  fear  for  myself,  for  I  shall  say  unto  him:  My  lord,  they 
did  not  tell  me  at  first,  and  when  they  did  tell  me,  I  begged 
them  to  return  for  my  heart,  but  they  refused.'  The  fishes  at 
once  declared  that  he  was  speaking  well.  They  conveyed  him 
back  to  the  spot  on  the  sea-shore  whence  they  had  taken  him. 
Off  jumped  the  fox,  and  he  danced  with  joy.  He  threw  himself 
on  the  sand,  and  laughed.  '  Be  quick,'  cried  the  fishes,  '  get 
thy  heart,  and  come.'  But  the  fox  answered,  '  You  fools !  Be 
gone  !  How  could  I  have  come  with  you  without  my  heart  ? 
Have  you  any  animals  that  go  about  without  their  hearts?' 
'  Thou  hast  tricked  us,'  they  moaned.  '  Fools !  I  tricked  the  Angel 
of  Death,  how  much  more  easily  a  parcel  of  silly  fishes.' 

"They  returned  in  shame,  and  related  to  their  master  what 
had  happened.  '  In  truth,'  he  said,  '  he  is  cunning,  and  ye  are 
simple.  Concerning  you  was  it  said,  The  turning  away  of  the 
simple  shall  slay  them  [Prov.  i:  32].  Then  the  leviathan  ate 
the  fishes." 

164 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

Metaphorically,  the  Bible  characterizes  the  fool 
as  a  man  "  without  a  heart,"  and  it  is  probably  in 
the  same  sense  that  modern  Arabs  describe  the 
brute  creation  as  devoid  of  hearts.  The  fox  in  the 
narrative  just  given  knew  better.  Not  so,  how 
ever,  the  lady  who  brought  a  curious  question  for 
her  Rabbi  to  solve.  The  case  to  which  I  refer  may 
be  found  in  the  Responsa  Zebi  Hirsch.  Hirsch's 
credulous  questioner  asserted  that  she  had  pur 
chased  a  live  cock,  but  on  killing  and  drawing  it, 
she  had  found  that  it  possessed  no  heart.  The 
Rabbi  refused  very  properly  to  believe  her.  On 
investigating  the  matter,  he  found  that,  while  she 
was  dressing  the  cock,  two  cats  had  been  standing 
near  the  table.  The  Rabbi  assured  his  questioner 
that  there  was  no  need  to  inquire  further  into  the 
whereabouts  of  the  cock's  heart. 

Out  of  the  crowd  of  parallels  to  the  story  of  the 
fox's  heart  supplied  by  the  labors  of  Benfey,  I  se 
lect  one  given  in  the  second  volume  of  the  learned 
investigator's  Pantschatantra.  A  crocodile  had 
formed  a  close  friendship  with  a  monkey,  who  in 
habited  a  tree  close  to  the  water  side.  The  mon 
key  gave  the  crocodile  nuts,  which  the  latter  rel 
ished  heartily.  One  day  the  crocodile  took  some 
of  the  nuts  home  to  his  wife.  She  found  them 

165 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

excellent,  and  inquired  who  was  the  donor.  '  If," 
she  said,  when  her  husband  had  told  her,  "  he 
feeds  on  such  ambrosial  nuts,  this  monkey's  heart 
must  be  ambrosia  itself.  Bring  me  his  heart, 
that  I  may  eat  it,  and  so  be  free  from  age  and 
death."  Does  not  this  version  supply  a  more 
probable  motive  than  that  attributed  in  the  He 
brew  story  to  the  leviathan?  I  strongly  suspect 
that  the  Hebrew  fable  has  been  pieced  together 
from  various  sources,  and  that  the  account  given 
by  the  fishes,  viz.  that  the  leviathan  was  ill,  was 
actually  the  truth  in  the  original  story.  The  levi 
athan  would  need  the  fox's  heart,  not  to  become 
wise,  but  in  order  to  save  his  life. 

To  return  to  the  crocodile.  He  refuses  to  be 
tray  his  friend,  and  his  wife  accuses  him  of  infidel 
ity.  His  friend,  she  maintains,  is  not  a  monkey  at 
all,  but  a  lady-love  of  her  husband's.  Else  why 
should  he  hesitate  to  obey  her  wishes?  "  If  he  is 
not  your  beloved,  why  will  you  not  kill  him  ?  Un 
less  you  bring  me  his  heart,  I  will  not  taste  food, 
but  will  die."  Then  the  crocodile  gives  in,  and  in 
the  most  friendly  manner  invites  the  monkey  to  pay 
him  and  his  wife  a  visit.  The  monkey  consents 
unsuspectingly,  but  discovers  the  truth,  and  escapes 
by  adopting  the  same  ruse  as  that  employed  by  the 

166 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

fox.  He  asserts  that  he  has  left  his  heart  behind 
on  his  tree. 

That  eating  the  heart  of  animals  was  not 
thought  a  means  of  obtaining  wisdom  among  the 
Jews,  may  be  directly  inferred  from  a  passage  in 
the  Talmud  (Horayoth,  I3b).  Among  five 
things  there  enumerated  as  "  causing  a  man  to  for 
get  what  he  has  learned,"  the  Talmud  includes 
"  eating  the  hearts  of  animals."  Besides,  in  cer 
tain  well-known  stories  in  the  Midrash,  where  a 
fox  eats  some  other  animal's  heart,  his  object  is 
merely  to  enjoy  a  titbit. 

One  such  story  in  particular  deserves  attention. 
There  are  at  least  three  versions  of  it.  The  one  is 
contained  in  the  Mlshle  Shualim,  or  "  Fox-Sto 
ries,"  by  Berechiah  ha-Nakdan  (no.  106),  the  sec 
ond  in  the  Hadar  Zekenim  (fol.  2yb),  and  the 
third  in  the  Midrash  Yalkut,  on  Exodus  (ed. 
Venice,  56a) .  Let  us  take  the  three  versions  in  the 
order  named. 

A  wild  boar  roams  in  a  lion's  garden.  The  lion 
orders  him  to  quit  the  place  and  not  defile  his  resi 
dence.  The  boar  promises  to  obey,  but  next  morn 
ing  he  is  found  near  the  forbidden  precincts.  The 
lion  orders  one  of  his  ears  to  be  cut  off.  He  then 
summons  the  fox,  and  directs  that  if  the  boar  still 

167 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

persists  in  his  obnoxious  visits,  no  mercy  shall  be 
shown  to  him.  The  boar  remains  obstinate,  and 
loses  his  ears  (one  had  already  gone!)  and  eyes, 
and  finally  he  is  killed.  The  lion  bids  the  fox  pre 
pare  the  carcass  for  His  Majesty's  repast,  but  the 
fox  himself  devours  the  boar's  heart.  When  the 
lion  discovers  the  loss,  the  fox  quiets  his  master  by 
asking,  "  If  the  boar  had  possessed  a  heart,  would 
he  have  been  so  foolish  as  to  disobey  you  so  per 
sistently?  " 

The  king  of  the  beasts,  runs  the  story  in  the  sec 
ond  of  the  three  versions,  appointed  the  ass  as 
keeper  of  the  tolls.  One  day  King  Lion,  together 
with  the  wolf  and  the  fox,  approached  the  city. 
The  ass  came  and  demanded  the  toll  of  them.  Said 
the  fox,  "  You  are  the  most  audacious  of  animals. 
Don't  you  see  that  the  king  is  with  us?  "  But  the 
ass  answered,  "  The  king  himself  shall  pay,"  and 
he  went  and  demanded  the  toll  of  the  king.  The 
lion  rent  him  to  pieces,  and  the  fox  ate  the  heart, 
and  excused  himself  as  in  the  former  version. 

The  Yalkut,  or  third  version,  is  clearly  identical 
with  the  preceding,  for,  like  it,  the  story  is  quoted 
to  illustrate  the  Scriptural  text  referring  to  Pha 
raoh's  heart  becoming  hard.  In  this  version,  how 
ever,  other  animals  accompany  the  lion  and  the 

168 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

fox,  and  the  scene  of  the  story  is  on  board  ship. 
The  ass  demands  the  fare,  with  the  same  denoue 
ment  as  before. 

What  induced  the  fox  to  eat  the  victim's  heart? 
The  ass  is  not  remarkable  for  wisdom,  nor  is  the 
boar.  Hence  the  wily  Reynard  can  scarcely  have 
thought  to  add  to  his  store  of  cunning  by  his  sur 
reptitious  meal. 

Hearts,  in  folk-lore,  have  been  eaten  for  re 
venge,  as  in  the  grim  story  of  the  lover's  heart  told 
by  Boccaccio.  The  jealous  husband  forces  his  wife, 
whose  fidelity  he  doubts,  to  make  a  meal  of  her 
supposed  lover's  heart.  In  the  story  of  the  great 
bird's  egg,  again,  the  brother  who  eats  the  heart 
becomes  rich,  but  not  wise.  Various  motives,  no 
doubt,  are  assigned  in  other  Mdrchen  for  choosing 
the  heart;  but  in  these  particular  Hebrew  fables,  it 
is  merely  regarded  as  a  bonne  bouche.  Possibly 
the  Talmudic  caution,  that  eating  the  heart  of  a 
beast  brings  forgetfulness,  may  have  a  moral  sig 
nificance;  it  may  mean  that  one  who  admits  bestial 
passions  into  his  soul  will  be  destitute  of  a  mind 
for  nobler  thoughts.  This  suggestion  I  have 
heard,  and  I  give  it  for  what  it  may  be  worth.  As 
a  rule,  there  is  no  morality  in  folk-lore;  stories 
with  morals  belong  to  the  later  and  more  artificial 

169 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

stage  of  poet-lore.  Homiletical  folk-lore,  of 
course,  stands  on  a  different  basis. 

Now,  in  the  Yalkut  version  of  the  fox  and  the 
lion  fable,  all  that  we  are  told  is,  "  The  fox  saw  the 
ass's  heart;  he  took  it,  and  ate  it."  But  Berechiah 
leaves  us  in  no  doubt  as  to  the  fox's  motive.  "  The 
fox  saw  that  his  heart  was  fat,  and  so  he  took  it." 
In  the  remaining  version,  "  The  fox  saw  that  the 
heart  was  good,  so  he  ate  it."  This  needs  no  fur 
ther  comment. 

Of  course,  it  has  been  far  from  my  intention  to 
dispute  that  the  heart  was  regarded  by  Jews  as  the 
seat  both  of  the  intellect  and  the  feelings,  of  all 
mental  and  spiritual  functions,  indeed.  The  heart 
was  the  best  part  of  man,  the  fount  of  life;  hence 
Jehudah  Halevi's  well-known  saying,  "  Israel  is  to 
the  world  as  the  heart  to  the  body."  An  intimate 
connection  was  also  established,  by  Jews  and 
Greeks  alike,  between  the  physical  condition  of  the 
heart  and  man's  moral  character.  It  was  a  not 
unnatural  thought  that  former  ages  were  more 
pious  than  later  times.  "  The  heart  of  Rabbi 
Akiba  was  like  the  door  of  the  porch  [which  was 
twenty  cubits  high],  the  heart  of  Rabbi  Eleazar 
ben  Shammua  was  like  the  door  of  the  Temple 
[this  was  only  ten  cubits  high],  while  our  hearts 

170 


THE  FOX'S  HEART 

are  only  as  large  as  the  eye  of  a  needle."  But  I  am 
going  beyond  my  subject.  To  collect  all  the  things, 
pretty  and  the  reverse,  that  have  been  said  in  Jew 
ish  literature  about  the  heart,  would  need  more  lei 
sure,  and  a  great  deal  more  learning,  than  I  pos 
sess.  So  I  will  conclude  with  a  story,  pathetic  as 
well  as  poetical,  from  a  Jewish  medieval  chronicle. 
A  Mohammedan  king  once  asked  a  learned 
Rabbi  why  the  Jews,  who  had  in  times  long  past 
been  so  renowned  for  their  bravery,  had  in  later 
generations  become  subdued,  and  even  timorous. 
The  Rabbi,  to  prove  that  captivity  and  persecu 
tion  were  the  cause  of  the  change,  proposed  an  ex 
periment.  He  bade  the  king  take  two  lion's 
whelps,  equally  strong  and  big.  One  was  tied  up, 
the  other  was  allowed  to  roam  free  in  the  palace 
grounds.  They  were  fed  alike,  and  after  an  in 
terval  both  were  killed.  The  king's  officers  found 
that  the  heart  of  the  captive  lion  was  but  one-tenth 
as  large  as  that  of  his  free  companion,  thus  evi 
dencing  the  degenerating  influence  of  slavery. 
This  is  meant,  no  doubt,  as  a  fable,  but,  at  least,  it 
is  not  without  a  moral.  The  days  of  captivity  are 
gone,  and  it  may  be  hoped  that  Jewish  large-heart- 
edness  has  come  back  with  the  breath  of  freedom. 

[Notes,  pp.  306-307] 
171 


'  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN  " 

"  The  Omnipresent,"  said  a  Rabbi,  "  is  occupied  in  making 
marriages."  The  levity  of  the  saying  lies  in  the  ear  of  him 
who  hears  it;  for  by  marriages  the  speaker  meant  all  the  won 
drous  combinations  of  the  universe,  whose  issue  makes  our  good 
and  evil.  George  Eliot 

The  proverb  that  I  have  set  at  the  head  of  these 
lines  is  popular  in  every  language  of  Europe. 
Need  I  add  that  a  variant  may  be  found  in  Chi 
nese?  The  Old  Man  of  the  Moon  unites  male  and 
female  with  a  silken,  invisible  thread,  and  they 
cannot  afterwards  be  separated,  but  are  destined 
to  become  man  and  wife.  The  remark  of  the 
Rabbi  quoted  in  "  Daniel  Deronda  "  carries  the 
proverb  back  apparently  to  a  Jewish  origin;  and 
it  is,  indeed,  more  than  probable  that  the  Rabbin 
ical  literature  is  the  earliest  source  to  which  this 
piece  of  folk-philosophy  can  be  traced. 

George  Eliot's  Rabbi  was  Jose  bar  Chalafta, 
and  his  remark  was  made  to  a  lady,  possibly  a 
Roman  matron  of  high  quality,  in  Sepphoris. 
Rabbi  Jose  was  evidently  an  adept  in  meeting  the 
puzzling  questions  of  women,  for  as  many  as  six- 

172 


"  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN  " 

teen  interviews  between  him  and  "  matrons  "  are 
recorded  in  Agadic  literature.  Whether  because 
prophetic  of  its  subsequent  popularity,  or  for  some 
other  reason,  this  particular  dialogue  in  which 
Rabbi  Jose  bore  so  conspicuous  a  part  is  repeated 
in  the  Midrash  Rabba  alone  not  less  than  four 
times,  besides  appearing  in  other  Midrashim.  It 
will  be  as  well,  then,  to  reproduce  the  passage  in  a 
summarized  form,  for  it  may  be  fairly  described 
as  the  locus  classicus  on  the  subject. 

"  How  long,"  she  asked,  "  did  it  take  God  to  create  the  world  ?  " 
and  Rabbi  Jose  informed  her  that  the  time  occupied  was  six 
days.  "  What  has  God  been  doing  since  that  time  ?  "  continued 
the  matron.  "  The  Holy  One,"  answered  the  Rabbi,  "  has  been 
sitting  in  Heaven  arranging  marriages." — "  Indeed !  "  she  replied, 
"  I  could  do  as  much  myself.  I  have  thousands  of  slaves,  and 
could  marry  them  off  in  couples  in  a  single  hour.  It  is  easy 
enough." — "  I  hope  that  you  will  find  it  so,"  said  Rabbi  Jose. 
"  In  Heaven  it  is  thought  as  difficult  as  the  dividing  of  the  Red 
Sea."  He  then  took  his  departure,  while  she  assembled  one 
thousand  men-servants  and  as  many  maid-servants,  and,  marking 
them  off  in  pairs,  ordered  them  all  to  marry.  On  the  day  follow 
ing  this  wholesale  wedding,  the  poor  victims  came  to  their  mis 
tress  in  a  woeful  plight.  One  had  a  broken  leg,  another  a  black 
eye,  a  third  a  swollen  nose ;  all  were  suffering  from  some  ailment, 
but  with  one  voice  they  joined  in  the  cry,  "Lady,  unmarry  us 
again !  "  Then  the  matron  sent  for  Rabbi  Jose,  admitted  that 
she  had  underrated  the  delicacy  and  difficulty  of  match-making, 

173 


"MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN" 

and   wisely  resolved   to   leave   Heaven   for  the  future  to  do   its 
work  in  its  own  way. 

The  moral  conveyed  by  this  story  may  seem, 
however,  to  have  been  idealized  by  George  Eliot 
almost  out  of  recognition.  This  is  hardly  the  case. 
Genius  penetrates  into  the  heart,  even  from  a  cas 
ual  glance  at  the  face  of  things.  Though  it  is  un 
likely  that  she  had  ever  seen  the  full  passages  in 
the  Midrash  to  which  she  was  alluding,  yet  her 
insight  was  not  at  fault.  For  the  saying  that  God 
is  occupied  in  making  marriages  is,  in  fact,  asso 
ciated  in  some  passages  of  the  Midrash  with  the 
far  wider  problems  of  man's  destiny,  with  the  uni 
versal  effort  to  explain  the  inequalities  of  fortune, 
and  the  changes  with  which  the  future  is  heavy. 

Rabbi  Jose's  proverbial  explanation  of  connu 
bial  happiness  was  not  merely  a  bon  mot  invented 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  to  silence  an  awkward 
questioner.  It  was  a  firm  conviction,  which  finds 
expression  in  more  than  one  quaint  utterance,  but 
also  in  more  than  one  matter-of-fact  assertion.  To 
take  the  latter  first : 

"Rabbi  Phineas  in  the  name  of  Rabbi  Abbahu  said,  We  find 
in  the  Torah,  in  the  Prophets,  and  in  the  Holy  Writings,  evidence 
that  a  man's  wife  is  chosen  for  him  by  the  Holy  One,  blessed  be 
He.  Whence  do  we  deduce  it  in  the  Torah?  From  Genesis 

174 


"  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN  " 

xxiv.  50:  Then  Laban  and  Bethuel  answered  and  said  [in 
reference  to  Rebekah's  betrothal  to  Isaac],  The  tiling  proceedcth 
from  the  Lord.  In  the  Prophets  it  is  found  in  Judges  xiv.  4 
[where  it  is  related  how  Samson  wished  to  mate  himself  with 
a  woman  in  Timnath,  of  the  daughters  of  the  Philistines],  But 
his  father  and  mother  knew  not  that  it  was  of  the  Lord.  In  the 
Holy  Writings  the  same  may  be  seen,  for  it  is  written  (Proverbs 
xix.  14),  House  and  riches  are  the  inheritance  of  fathers,  but 
a  prudent  wife  is  from  the  Lord" 

Many  years  ago,  a  discussion  was  carried  on  in 
the  columns  of  Notes  and  Queries  concerning  the 
origin  of  the  saying  round  which  my  present  desul 
tory  jottings  are  centred.  One  correspondent, 
with  unconscious  plagiarism,  suggested  that  the 
maxim  was  derived  from  Proverbs  xix.  14. 

Another  text  that  might  be  appealed  to  is  Tobit 
vi.  1 8.  The  Angel  encourages  Tobit  to  marry 
Sarah,  though  her  seven  husbands,  one  after  the 
other,  had  died  on  their  wedding  eves.  "  Fear 
not,"  said  Raphael,  "  for  she  is  appointed  unto 
thee  from  the  beginning  " 

Here  we  may,  for  a  moment,  pause  to  consider 
whether  any  parallels  to  the  belief  in  Heaven-made 
marriages  exist  in  other  ancient  literatures.  It 
appears  in  English  as  early  as  Shakespeare : 

God,  the  best  maker  of  all  marriages, 
Combine  your  hearts  in  one. 

Henry  V .,  <u.  2. 
175 


"  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN  " 

This,  however,  is  too  late  to  throw  any  light  on 
its  origin.  With  a  little  ingenuity,  one  might,  per 
haps,  torture  some  such  notion  out  of  certain  fan 
tastic  sentences  of  Plato.  In  the  Symposium  (par. 
192),  however,  God  is  represented  as  putting  ob 
stacles  in  the  way  of  the  union  of  fitting  lovers,  in 
consequence  of  the  wickedness  of  mankind.  When 
men  become,  by  their  conduct,  reconciled  with  God, 
they  may  find  their  true  loves.  Astrological  divi 
nations  on  the  subject  are  certainly  common  enough 
in  Eastern  stories;  a  remarkable  instance  will  be 
given  later  on.  At  the  present  day,  Lane  tells  us, 
the  numerical  value  of  the  letters  in  the  names  of 
the  two  parties  to  the  contract  are  added  for  each 
name  separately,  and  one  of  the  totals  is  sub 
tracted  from  the  other.  If  the  remainder  is  un 
even,  the  inference  drawn  is  favorable;  but  if  even, 
the  reverse.  The  pursuit  of  Gematria  is  apparently 
not  limited  to  Jews.  Such  methods,  however, 
hardly  illustrate  my  present  point,  for  the  identity 
of  the  couple  is  not  discovered  by  the  process. 
Whether  the  diviner's  object  is  to  make  this  dis 
covery,  or  the  future  lot  of  the  married  pair  is  all 
that  he  seeks  to  reveal,  in  both  cases,  though  he 
charm  never  so  wisely,  it  does  not  fall  within  the 
scope  of  this  inquiry.  Without  stretching  one's 

176 


"  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN  " 

imagination  too  much,  some  passages  in  the  Pant- 
schatantra  seem  to  imply  a  belief  that  marriage- 
making  is  under  the  direct  control  of  Providence. 
Take,  for  instance,  the  story  of  the  beautiful  prin 
cess  who  was  betrothed  to  a  serpent,  Deva  Serma's 
son.  Despite  the  various  attempts  made  to  induce 
her  to  break  off  so  hideous  a  match,  she  declines 
steadfastly  to  go  back  from  her  word,  and  bases 
her  refusal  on  the  ground  that  the  marriage  was 
inevitable  and  destined  by  the  gods. 

As  quaint  illustrations  may  be  instanced  the  fol 
lowing:  "  Raba  heard  a  certain  man  praying  that 
he  might  marry  a  certain  damsel;  Raba  rebuked 
him  with  the  words:  '  If  she  be  destined  for  thee, 
nothing  will  part  thee  from  her;  if  thou  art  not 
destined  for  her,  thou  art  denying  Providence  in 
praying  for  her.'  Afterwards  Raba  heard  him 
say,  '  If  I  am  not  destined  to  marry  her,  I  hope 
that  either  I  or  she  may  die,'  "  meaning  that  he 
could  not  bear  to  witness  her  union  with  another. 
Despite  Raba's  protest,  other  instances  are  on  rec 
ord  of  prayers  similar  to  the  one  of  which  he  dis 
approved.  Or,  again,  the  Midrash  offers  a  curious 
illustration  of  Psalm  Ixii.  10,  "  Surely  men  of  low 
degree  are  a  breath,  and  men  of  high  degree  a  lie." 
The  first  clause  of  the  verse  alludes  to  those  who 
12  177 


"  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN  " 

say  in  the  usual  way  of  the  world,  that  a  certain 
man  is  about  to  wed  a  certain  maiden,  and  the 
second  clause  to  those  who  say  that  a  certain 
maiden  is  about  to  wed  a  certain  man.  In  both 
cases  people  are  in  error  in  thinking  that  the  vari 
ous  parties  are  acting  entirely  of  their  own  free 
will;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  whole  affair  is  predes 
tined.  I  am  not  quite  certain  whether  the  same 
idea  is  intended  by  the  Yalkut  Reubeni,  in  which 
the  following  occurs:  "  Know  that  all  religious 
and  pious  men  in  this  our  generation  are  hen 
pecked  by  their  wives,  the  reason  being  connected 
with  the  mystery  of  the  Golden  Calf.  The  men 
on  that  occasion  did  not  protest  against  the  action 
of  the  mixed  multitude  [at  whose  door  the  charge 
of  making  the  calf  is  laid],  while  the  women  were 
unwilling  to  surrender  their  golden  ornaments  for 
idolatrous  purposes.  Therefore  they  rule  over 
their  husbands."  One  might  also  quote  the  bear 
ing  of  the  mystical  theory  of  transmigration  on  the 
predestination  of  bridal  pairs.  In  the  Talmud,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  virtues  of  a  man's  wife  are 
sometimes  said  to  be  in  proportion  to  the  husband's 
own;  or  in  other  words,  his  own  righteousness  is 
the  cause  of  his  acquiring  a  good  wife.  The  obvi 
ous  objection,  raised  by  the  Talmud  itself,  is  that 

178 


"MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN" 

a  man's  merits  can  hardly  be  displayed  before  his 
birth — and  yet  his  bride  is  destined  for  him  at  that 
early  period. 

Yet  more  quaint  (I  should  perhaps  rather  term 
it  consistent,  were  not  consistency  rare  enough  to 
be  indistinguishable  from  quaintness)  was  the  con 
fident  belief  of  a  maiden  of  whom  mention  is  made 
in  the  Sefer  ha-Chasidim  (par.  384).  She  refused 
persistently  to  deck  her  person  with  ornaments. 
People  said  to  her,  "  If  you  go  about  thus  un 
adorned,  no  one  will  notice  you  nor  court  you." 
She  replied  with  firm  simplicity,  "  It  is  the  Holy 
One,  blessed  be  He,  that  settles  marriages;  I  need 
have  no  concern  on  the  point  myself."  Virtue  was 
duly  rewarded,  for  she  married  a  learned  and  pious 
husband.  This  passage  in  the  "  Book  of  the  Pious  " 
reminds  me  of  the  circumstance  under  which  the 
originator  of  the  latter-day  Chasidism,  Israel 
Baalshem,  is  said  to  have  married.  When  he  was 
offered  the  daughter  of  a  rich  and  learned  man  of 
Brody,  named  Abraham,  he  readily  accepted  the 
alliance,  because  he  knew  that  Abraham's  daughter 
was  his  bride  destined  by  heaven.  For,  like  Moses 
Mendelssohn,  in  some  other  respects  the  antagonist 
of  the  Chasidim,  Baalshem  accepted  the  declara 
tion  of  Rabbi  Judah  in  the  name  of  Rab :  "  Forty 

179 


"MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN" 

days  before  the  creation  of  a  girl,  a  proclamation 
[Bath-Kol]  is  made  in  Heaven,  saying,  "  The 
daughter  of  such  a  one  shall  marry  such  and  such  a 
one." 

The  belief  in  the  Divine  ordaining  of  marriages 
affected  the  medieval  Synagogue  liturgy.  To  re 
peat  what  I  have  written  elsewhere :  When  the 
bridegroom,  with  a  joyous  retinue,  visited  the  syna 
gogue  on  the  Sabbath  following  his  marriage,  the 
congregation  chanted  the  chapter  of  Genesis 
(xxiv)  that  narrates  the  story  of  Isaac's  marriage, 
which,  as  Abraham's  servant  claimed,  was  provi 
dentially  arranged.  This  chapter  was  sung,  not 
only  in  Hebrew,  but  in  Arabic,  in  countries  where 
the  latter  language  was  the  vernacular.  These 
special  readings,  which  were  additional  to  the  regu 
lar  Scripture  lesson,  seem  to  have  fallen  out  of  use 
in  Europe  in  the  seventeenth  century,  but  they  are 
still  retained  in  the  East.  But  all  over  Jewry  the 
beautiful  old  belief  is  contained  in  the  wording  of 
the  fourth  of  the  "  seven  benedictions  "  sung  at  the 
celebration  of  a  wedding,  "  Blessed  art  thou,  O 
Lord  our  God,  King  of  the  Universe,  who  hast 
made  man  in  thine  image,  after  thy  likeness,  and 
hast  prepared  unto  him  out  of  his  very  self  a  per 
petual  fabric."  Here  is  recalled  the  creation  of 

180 


"  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN  " 

Eve,  of  whom  God  Himself  said,  "  I  will  make 
for  man  a  help  meet  unto  him."  Not  only  the 
marriage,  but  also  the  bride  was  Heaven-made, 
and  the  wonderful  wedding  benediction  enshrines 
this  idea. 

In  an  Agadic  story,  the  force  of  this  predestina 
tion  is  shown  to  be  too  strong  even  for  royal  op 
position.  It  does  not  follow  that  the  pre-arrange- 
ment  of  marriages  implies  that  the  pair  cannot  fall 
in  love  of  their  own  accord.  On  the  contrary,  just 
the  right  two  eventually  come  together;  for  once 
freewill  and  destiny  need  present  no  incompati 
bility.  The  combination,  here  shadowed,  of  a  pre 
destined  and  yet  true-love  marriage,  is  effectively 
illustrated  in  what  follows : 

"  Solomon  the  king  was  blessed  with  a  very  beautiful  daughter; 
she  was  the  fairest  maiden  in  the  whole  land  of  Israel.  Her 
father  observed  the  stars,  to  discover  by  astrology  who  was  des 
tined  to  be  her  mate  in  life  and  wed  her,  when  lo !  he  saw  that 
his  future  son-in-law  would  be  the  poorest  man  in  the  nation. 
Now,  what  did  Solomon  do?  He  built  a  high  tower  by  the  sea, 
and  surrounded  it  on  all  sides  with  inaccessible  walls;  he  then 
took  his  daughter  and  placed  her  in  the  tower  under  the  charge 
of  seventy  aged  guardians.  He  supplied  the  castle  with  pro 
visions,  but  he  had  no  door  made  in  it,  so  that  none  could  enter 
the  fortress  without  the  knowledge  of  the  guard.  Then  the  king 
said,  '  I  will  watch  in  what  way  God  will  work  the  matter.' 

181 


"  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN  " 

"  In  course  of  time,  a  poor  and  weary  traveller  was  walking 
on  his  way  by  night,  his  garments  were  ragged  and  torn,  he  was 
barefooted  and  ready  to  faint  with  hunger,  cold,  and  fatigue. 
He  knew  not  where  to  sleep,  but,  casting  his  eyes  around  him, 
he  beheld  the  skeleton  of  an  ox  lying  on  a  field  hard  by.  The 
youth  crept  inside  the  skeleton  to  shelter  himself  from  the  wind, 
and,  while  he  slept  there,  down  swooped  a  great  bird,  which 
lifted  up  the  carcass  and  the  unconscious  youth  in  it.  The  bird 
flew  with  its  burden  to  the  top  of  Solomon's  tower,  and  set  it 
down  on  the  roof  before  the  very  door  of  the  imprisoned  princess. 
She  went  forth  on  the  morrow  to  walk  on  the  roof  according  to 
her  daily  wont,  and  she  descried  the  youth.  She  said  to  him, 
'  Who  art  thou?  and  who  brought  thee  hither?'  He  answered, 
'  I  am  a  Jew  of  Acco,  and  a  bird  bore  me  to  thee.'  The  kind- 
hearted  maiden  clothed  him  in  new  garments;  they  bathed  and 
anointed  him,  and  she  saw  that  he  was  the  handsomest  youth  in 
Israel.  They  loved  one  another,  and  his  soul  was  bound  up  in 
hers.  One  day  she  said,  'Wilt  thou  marry  me?'  He  replied, 
'Would  it  might  be  so!'  They  resolved  to  marry.  But  there 
was  no  ink  with  which  to  write  the  Kethubah,  or  marriage  cer 
tificate.  Love  laughs  at  obstacles.  So,  using  some  drops  of  his 
own  blood  as  ink,  the  marriage  was  secretly  solemnized,  and  he 
said,  '  God  is  my  witness  to-day,  and  Michael  and  Gabriel  like 
wise.'  When  the  matter  leaked  out,  the  dismayed  custodians  of 
the  princess  hastily  summoned  Solomon.  The  king  at  once 
obeyed  their  call,  and  asked  for  the  presumptuous  youth.  He 
looked  at  his  son-in-law,  inquired  of  him  as  to  his  father  and 
mother,  family  and  dwelling-place,  and  from  his  replies  the  king 
recognized  him  for  the  selfsame  man  whom  he  had  seen  in  the 
stars  as  the  destined  husband  of  his  daughter.  Then  Solomon 

182 


"  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN  " 

rejoiced  with  exceeding  joy  and  exclaimed,  Blessed  is  the  Omni 
present  who  giveth  a  wife  to  man  and  establisheth  him  in  his 
house." 

The  moral  of  which  seems  to  be  that,  though 
marriages  are  made  in  Heaven,  love  must  be  made 
on  earth. 

[Notes,  p.  307] 


183 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

Palestine  is  still  the  land  of  song.  There  the 
peasant  sings  Arabic  ditties  in  the  field  when  he 
sows  and  reaps,  in  the  desert  when  he  tends  his 
flock,  at  the  oasis  when  the  caravan  rests  for  the 
night,  and  when  camels  are  remounted  next  morn 
ing.  The  maiden's  fresh  voice  keeps  droning 
rhythm  with  her  hands  and  feet  as  she  carries 
water  from  the  well  or  wood  from  the  scanty  for 
est,  when  she  milks  the  goats,  and  when  she  bakes 
the  bread. 

The  burden  of  a  large  portion  of  these  songs  is 
love.  The  love  motive  is  most  prominent  musi 
cally  during  the  long  week  of  wedding  festivities, 
but  it  is  by  no  means  limited  to  these  occasions. 
The  songs  often  contain  an  element  of  quaint,  even 
arch,  repartee,  in  which  the  girl  usually  has  the 
better  of  the  argument.  Certainly  the  songs  are 
sometimes  gross,  but  only  in  the  sense  that  they 
are  vividly  natural.  With  no  delicacy  of  expres 
sion,  they  are  seldom  intrinsically  coarse.  The 
troubadours  of  Europe  trilled  more  daintily  of 

184 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

love,  but  there  was  at  times  an  illicit  note  in  their 
lays.  Eastern  love  songs  never  attain  the  ideal 
purity  of  Dante,  but  they  hardly  ever  sink  to  the 
level  of  Ovid. 

But  why  begin  an  account  of  Hebrew  love 
songs  by  citing  extant  Palestinian  examples  in 
Arabic?  Because  there  is  an  undeniable,  if  remote, 
relationship  between  some  of  the  latter  and  the 
Biblical  Song  of  Songs.  In  that  marvellous  poem, 
outspoken  praise  of  earthly  beauty,  frank  enumer 
ation  of  the  physical  charms  of  the  lovers,  thor 
ough  unreserve  of  imagery,  are  conspicuous 
enough.  Just  these  features,  as  Wetzstein  showed, 
are  reproduced,  in  a  debased,  yet  recognizable, 
likeness,  by  the  modern  Syrian  wasf — a  lyric  de 
scription  of  the  bodily  perfections  and  adornments 
of  a  newly-wed  pair.  The  Song  of  Songs,  or  Can 
ticles,  it  is  true,  is  hardly  a  marriage  ode  or  drama; 
its  theme  is  betrothed  faith  rather  than  marital 
affection.  Still,  if  we  choose  to  regard  the  Song 
of  Songs  as  poetry  merely  of  the  wasf  type,  the 
Hebrew  is  not  only  far  older  than  any  extant  Ara 
bic  instance,  but  it  transcends  the  wasf  type  as  a 
work  of  inspired  genius  transcends  conventional 
exercises  in  verse-making.  There  are  superficial 
similarities  between  the  wasf  and  Canticles,  but 

185 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

there  is  no  spiritual  kinship.  The  wasf  is  to  the 
Song  as  Lovelace  is  to  Shakespeare,  nay,  the  dis 
tance  is  even  greater.  The  difference  is  not  only  of 
degree,  it  is  essential.  The  one  touches  the  surface 
of  love,  the  other  sounds  its  depths.  The  Song  of 
Songs  immeasurably  surpasses  the  wasf  even  as 
poetry.  It  has  been  well  said  by  Dr.  Harper 
(author  of  the  best  English  edition  of  Canticles), 
that,  viewed  simply  as  poetry,  the  Song  of  Songs 
belongs  to  the  loveliest  masterpieces  of  art.  ;'  If, 
as  Milton  said,  '  poetry  should  be  simple,  sensuous, 
passionate,'  then  here  we  have  poetry  of  singular 
beauty  and  power.  Such  unaffected  delight  in  all 
things  fair  as  we  find  here  is  rare  in  any  literature, 
and  is  especially  remarkable  in  ancient  Hebrew 
literature.  The  beauty  of  the  world  and  of  the 
creatures  in  it  has  been  so  deeply  and  warmly  felt, 
that  even  to-day  the  ancient  poet's  emotion  of  joy 
in  them  thrills  through  the  reader." 

It  is  superfluous  to  justify  this  eulogy  by  quota 
tion.  It  is  impossible  also,  unless  the  quotation 
extend  to  the  whole  book.  Yet  one  scene  shall  be 
cited,  the  exquisite,  lyrical  dialogue  of  spring,  be 
ginning  with  the  tenth  verse  of  the  second  chapter. 
It  is  a  dialogue,  though  the  whole  is  reported  by 
one  speaker,  the  Shulammite  maid.  Her  shepherd 

186 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

lover  calls  to  her  as  she  stands  hidden  behind  a  lat 
tice,  in  the  palace  in  Lebanon,  whither  she  has  been 
decoyed,  or  persuaded  to  go,  by  the  "  ladies  of 
Jerusalem." 

The  shepherd  lover  calls 
Rise  up,  my  love, 

My  fair  one,  come  away ! 
For,  lo,  the  winter  is  past, 
The  rain  is  over  and  gone, 
The  flowers  appear  on  the  earth: 
The  birds'  singing  time  is  here, 

And  the  voice  of  the  turtle-dove  is  heard  in  our  land. 
The  fig-tree  ripens  red  her  winter  fruit, 
And  blossoming  vines  give  forth  fragrance. 
Rise  up,  my  love, 

My  fair  one,  come  away! 

Shulammith  makes  no  answer,  though  she  feels 
that  the  shepherd  is  conscious  of  her  presence.  She 
is,  as  it  were,  in  an  unapproachable  steep,  such  as 
the  wild  dove  selects  for  her  shy  nest.  So  he  goes 
on: 

O  my  dove,  that  art  in  the  clefts  of  the  rock, 

In  the  covert  of  the  steep ! 

Let  me  see  thy  face, 

Let  me  hear  thy  voice, 

For  sweet  is  thy  voice,  and  thy  face  comely! 

She  remains  tantalizingly  invisible,  but  becomes 
audible.  She  sings  a  snatch  from  a  vineyard- 

187 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

watcher's  song,  hinting,  perhaps,  at  the  need  in 
which  her  person  (her  "  vineyard  "  as  she  else 
where  calls  it)  stands  of  protection  against  royal 
foxes,  small  and  large. 

Shulammith  sings 

Take  us  the  foxes, 
The  little  foxes, 

That  spoil  the  vineyards: 
For  our  vines  are  in  blossom ! 

Then,  in  loving  rapture, 

Shulammith  speaks  in  an  aside 

My  beloved  is  mine,  and  I  am  his: 
He  feedeth  his  flock  among  the  lilies! 

But  she  cannot  refuse  her  lover  one  glance  at 
herself,  even  though  sh.e  appear  only  to  warn  him 
of  his  danger,  to  urge  him  to  leave  her  and  return 
when  the  day  is  over. 

Shulammith  entreatlngly  to  her  lover 
Until  the  evening  breeze  blows, 
And  the  shadows  disappear   (at  sunset), 
Turn,  my  beloved ! 
Be  thou  as  a  young  hart 
Upon  the  cleft-riven  hills! 

This  is  but  one  of  the  many  dainty  love  idylls  of 
this  divine  poem.  Or,  again,  "  could  the  curious 
helplessness  of  the  dreamer  in  a  dream  and  the 

188 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

yearning  of  a  maiden's  affection  be  more  exquisitely 
expressed  than  in  the  lines  beginning,  I  was  asleep, 
but  my  heart  waked  "  ?  But,  indeed,  as  the  critic 
I  am  quoting  continues,  "  the  felicities  of  expression 
and  the  happy  imaginings  of  the  poem  are  endless. 
The  spring  of  nature  and  of  love  has  been  caught 
and  fixed  in  its  many  exquisite  lines,  as  only  Shakes 
peare  elsewhere  has  done  it;  and,  understood  as 
we  think  it  must  be  understood,  it  has  that  ethical 
background  of  sacrifice  and  self-forgetting  which 
all  love  must  have  to  be  thoroughly  worthy." 

It  is  this  ethical,  or,  as  I  prefer  to  term  it,  spiri 
tual,  background  that  discriminates  the  Song  of 
Songs  on  the  one  hand  from  the  Idylls  of  Theocri 
tus,  and,  on  the  other,  from  the  Syrian  popular 
ditties.  Some  moderns,  notably  Budde,  hold  that 
the  Book  of  Canticles  is  merely  a  collection  of  pop 
ular  songs  used  at  Syrian  weddings,  in  which  the 
bride  figures  as  queen  and  her  mate  as  king,  just  as 
Budde  (wrongly)  conceives  them  to  figure  in  the 
Biblical  Song.  Budde  suggests  that  there  were 
"  guilds  of  professional  singers  at  weddings,  and 
that  we  have  in  the  Song  of  Songs  simply  the  reper 
toire  of  some  ancient  guild-brother,  who,  in  order 
to  assist  his  memory,  wrote  down  at  random  all 
the  songs  he  could  remember,  or  those  he  thought 
the  best," 

189 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

But  this  theory  has  been  generally  rejected  as 
unsatisfying.  The  book,  despite  its  obscurities,  is 
clearly  a  unity.  It  is  no  haphazard  collection  of 
love  songs.  There  is  a  sustained  dramatic  action 
leading  up  to  a  noble  climax.  Some  passages  al 
most  defy  the  attempt  to  fit  them  into  a  coherent 
plot,  but  most  moderns  detect  the  following  story 
in  Canticles:  A  beautiful  maid  of  Shulem  (per 
haps  another  form  of  Shunem),  beloved  by  a 
shepherd  swain,  is  the  only  daughter  of  well-off 
but  rustic  parents.  She  is  treated  harshly  by  her 
brothers,  who  set  her  to  watch  the  vineyards,  and 
this  exposure  to  the  sun  somewhat  mars  her  beauty. 
Straying  in  the  gardens,  she  is  on  a  day  in  spring 
surprised  by  Solomon  and  his  train,  who  are  on  a 
royal  progress  to  the  north.  She  is  taken  to  the 
palace  in  the  capital,  and  later  to  a  royal  abode  in 
Lebanon.  There  the  "  ladies  of  Jerusalem  "  seek 
to  win  her  affections  for  the  king,  who  himself  pays 
her  his  court.  But  she  resists  all  blandishments, 
and  remains  faithful  to  her  country  lover.  Sur 
rendering  graciously  to  her  strenuous  resistance, 
Solomon  permits  her  to  return  unharmed  to  her 
mountain  home.  Her  lover  meets  her,  and  as  she 
draws  near  her  native  village,  the  maid,  leaning  on 
the  shepherd's  arm,  breaks  forth  into  the  glorious 

190 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

panegyric  of  love,  which,  even  if  it  stood  alone, 
would  make  the  poem  deathless.  But  it  does  not 
stand  alone.  It  is  in  every  sense  a  climax  to  what 
has  gone  before.  And  what  a  climax !  It  is  a  vin 
dication  of  true  love,  which  weighs  no  allurements 
of  wealth  and  position  against  itself;  a  love  of  free 
inclination,  yet  altogether  removed  from  license. 
Nor  is  it  an  expression  of  that  lower  love  which 
may  prevail  in  a  polygamous  state  of  society,  when 
love  is  dissipated  among  many.  We  have  here  the 
love  of  one  for  one,  an  exclusive  and  absorbing  de 
votion.  For  though  the  Bible  never  prohibited 
polygamy,  the  Jews  had  become  monogamous 
from  the  Babylonian  Exile  at  latest.  The  splendid 
praise  of  the  virtuous  woman  at  the  end  of  the 
Book  of  Proverbs  gives  a  picture,  not  only  of  mo 
nogamous  home-life,  but  of  woman's  influence  at 
its  highest.  The  virtuous  woman  of  Proverbs  is 
wife  and  mother,  deft  guide  of  the  home,  open- 
handed  dispenser  of  charity,  with  the  law  of  kind 
ness  on  her  tongue ;  but  her  activity  also  extends  to 
the  world  outside  the  home,  to  the  mart,  to  the 
business  of  life.  Where,  in  olden  literature,  are 
woman's  activities  wider  or  more  manifold,  her 
powers  more  fully  developed?  Now,  the  Song 
of  Songs  is  the  lyric  companion  to  this  prose  pic- 

191 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

ture.  The  whole  Song  works  up  towards  the  de 
scription  of  love  in  the  last  chapter — towards  the 
culmination  of  the  thought  and  feeling  of  the 
whole  series  of  episodes.  The  Shulammite  speaks : 

Set  me  as  a  seal  upon  thy  heart, 

As  a  seal  upon  thine  arm : 

For  love  is  strong  as  death, 

Jealousy  is  cruel  as  the  grave: 

The  flashes  thereof  are  flashes  of  fire, 

A  very  flame  of  God ! 

Many  waters  cannot  quench  love, 

Neither  can  the  floods  drown  it: 

If  a  man  would  give  the  substance  of  his  house  for  love, 

He  would  be  utterly  contemned. 

The  vindication  of  the  Hebrew  song  from  de 
gradation  to  the  level  of  the  Syrian  wasf  is  easy 
enough.  But  some  may  feel  that  there  is  more 
plausibility  in  the  case  that  has  been  set  up  for  the 
connection  between  Canticles  and  another  type  of 
love  song,  the  Idylls  of  Theocritus,  the  Sicilian  poet 
whose  Greek  compositions  gave  lyric  distinction 
to  the  Ptolemaic  court  at  Alexandria,  about  the 
middle  of  the  third  century  B.  c.  E.  It  is  re 
markable  how  reluctant  some  writers  are  to 
admit  originality  in  ideas.  Such  writers  seem  to 
recognize  no  possibility  other  than  supposing  The 
ocritus  to  have  copied  Canticles,  or  Canticles  The- 

192 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

ocritus.  It  does  not  occur  to  them  that  both  may 
be  original,  independent  expressions  of  similar 
emotions.  Least  original  among  ideas  is  this  de 
nial  of  originality  in  ideas.  Criticism  has  often 
stultified  itself  under  the  obsession  that  everything 
is  borrowed.  On  this  theory  there  can  never  have 
been  an  original  note.  The  poet,  we  are  told,  is 
born,  not  made;  but  poetry,  apparently,  is  always 
made,  never  born. 

The  truth  rather  is  that  as  human  nature  is 
everywhere  similar,  there  must  necessarily  be  some 
similarity  ia  its  literary  expression.  This  is  em 
phatically  the  case  with  the  expression  given  to  the 
emotional  side  of  human  nature.  The  love  of  man 
for  maid,  rising  everywhere  from  the  same  spring, 
must  find  lyric  outlets  that  look  a  good  deal  alike. 
The  family  resemblance  between  the  love  poems  of 
various  peoples  is  due  to  the  elemental  kinship  of 
the  love.  Every  true  lover  is  original,  yet  most 
true  lovers,  including  those  who  have  no  familiar 
ity  with  poetical  literature,  fall  instinctively  on  the 
same  terms  of  endearment.  Differences  only  make 
themselves  felt  in  the  spiritual  attitudes  of  various 
ages  and  races  towards  love.  Theocritus  has  been 
compared  to  Canticles,  by  some  on  the  ground  of 
certain  Orientalisms  of  his  thought  and  phrases,  as 
13  193 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

in  his  Praise  of  Ptolemy.  But  his  love  poems  bear 
no  trace  of  Orientalism  in  feeling,  as  Canticles 
shows  no  trace  of  Hellenism  in  its  conception  of 
love.  The  similarities  are  human,  the  differences 
racial. 

Direct  literary  imitation  of  love  lyrics  certainly 
does  occur.  Virgil  imitated  Theocritus,  and  the 
freshness  of  the  Greek  Idyll  became  the  convention 
of  the  Roman  Eclogue.  When  such  conscious  imi 
tation  takes  place,  it  is  perfectly  obvious.  There 
is  no  mistaking  the  affectation  of  an  urban  lyrist, 
whose  lovers  masquerade  as  shepherds  in  the  court 
of  Louis  XIV. 

Theocritus  seems  to  have  had  earlier  Greek 
models,  but  few  readers  of  his  Idylls  can  question 
his  originality,  and  fewer  still  will  agree  with  Ma- 
haffy  in  denying  the  naturalness  of  his  goatherds 
and  fishermen,  in  a  word,  his  genuineness.  Ma- 
haffy  wavers  between  two  statements,  that  -the 
Idylls  are  an  affectation  for  Alexandria,  and  sin 
cere  for  Sicily.  The  two  statements  are  by  no 
means  contradictory.  Much  the  same  thing  is  true 
of  Canticles,  the  Biblical  Song  of  Songs.  It  is  un 
reasonable  for  anyone  who  has  seen  or  read  about 
a  Palestinian  spring,  with  its  unique  beauty  of 
flower  and  bird  and  blossom,  to  imagine  that  the 

194 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

author  of  Canticles  needed  or  used  second-hand 
sources  of  inspiration,  however  little  his  drama 
may  have  accorded  with  the  life  of  Jerusalem  in 
the  Hellenistic  period.  And  as  the  natural  scenic 
background  in  each  case  is  native,  so  is  the  treat 
ment  of  the  love  theme ;  in  both  it  is  passionate, 
but  in  the  one  it  is  nothing  else,  in  the  other  it  is 
also  spiritual.  In  both,  the  whole  is  artistic,  but 
not  artificial.  As  regards  the  originality  of  the 
love-interest  in  Canticles,  it  must  suffice  to  say  that 
there  was  always  a  strong  romantic  strain  in  the 
Jewish  character. 

Canticles  is  perhaps  (by  no  means  certainly) 
post-Exilic  and  not  far  removed  in  date  from  the 
age  of  Theocritus.  Still,  a  post-Exilic  Hebrew 
poet  had  no  more  reason  to  go  abroad  for  a  roman 
tic  plot  than  Hosea,  or  the  author  of  Ruth,  or  the 
writer  of  the  royal  Epithalamium  (Psalm  xlv), 
an  almost  certainly  pre-Exilic  composition.  This 
Psalm  has  been  well  termed  a  "  prelude  to  the 
Song  of  Songs,"  for  in  a  real  sense  Canticles  is  an 
ticipated  and  even  necessitated  by  it.  In  Ruth  we 
have  a  romance  of  the  golden  corn-field,  and  the 
author  chooses  the  unsophisticated  days  of  the 
Judges  as  the  setting  of  his  tale.  In  Canticles  we 
have  a  contrasted  picture  between  the  simplicity  of 

195 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

shepherd-life  and  the  urban  voluptuousness  which 
was  soon  to  attain  its  climax  in  the  court  of  the 
Ptolemies.  So  the  poet  chose  the  luxurious  reign 
of  Solomon  as  the  background  for  his  exquisite 
"  melodrama."  Both  Ruth  and  Canticles  are 
home-products,  and  ancient  Greek  literature  has  no 
real  parallel  to  either. 

Yet,  despite  the  fact  that  the  Hebrew  Bible  is 
permeated  through  and  through,  in  its  history,  its 
psalmody,  and  its  prophetic  oratory,  with  images 
drawn  from  love,  especially  in  rustic  guise,  so  com 
petent  a  critic  as  Graetz  conceived  that  the  pastoral 
background  of  the  love-story  of  Canticles  must 
have  been  artificial.  While  most  of  those  who 
have  accepted  the  theory  of  imitation — they  can 
not  have  reread  the  Idylls  and  the  Song  as  wholes 
to  persist  in  such  a  theory — have  contended  that 
Theocritus  borrowed  from  Canticles,  Graetz  is 
convinced  that  the  Hebrew  poet  must  have  known 
and  imitated  the  Greek  idyllist.  The  hero  and 
heroine  of  the  Song,  he  thinks,  are  not  real  shep 
herds;  they  are  bucolic  dilettanti,  their  shepherd- 
role  is  not  serious.  Whence,  then,  this  superficial 
pastoral  mise-en-scene?  This  critic,  be  it  observed, 
places  Canticles  in  the  Ptolemaic  age. 

"In  the   then  Judean  world,"   writes   Graetz,   "in  the  post- 
196 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

Exilic  period,  pastoral  life  was  in  no  way  so  distinguished  as  to 
serve  as  a  poetic  foil.  On  the  contrary,  the  shepherd  was  held 
in  contempt.  Agriculture  was  so  predominant  that  large  herds 
were  considered  a  detriment;  they  spoiled  the  grain.  Shepherds, 
too,  were  esteemed  robbers,  in  that  they  allowed  their  cattle  to 
graze  on  the  lands  of  others.  In  Judea  itself,  in  the  post-Exilic 
period,  there  were  few  pasture-grounds  for  such  nomads. 
Hence  the  song  transfers  the  goats  to  Gilead,  where  there  still 
existed  grazing-places.  In  the  Judean  world  the  poet  could  find 
nothing  to  suggest  the  idealization  of  the  shepherd.  As  he, 
nevertheless,  represents  the  simple  life,  as  opposed  to  courtly 
extravagance,  through  the  figures  of  shepherds,  he  must  have 
worked  from  a  foreign  model.  But  Theocritus  was  the  first 
perfect  pastoral  poet.  Through  his  influence  shepherd  songs  be 
came  a  favorite  genre.  He  had  no  lack  of  imitators.  Theocritus 
had  full  reason  to  contrast  court  and  rustic  life  and  idealize  the 
latter,  for  in  his  native  Sicily  there  were  still  shepherds  in 
primitive  simplicity.  Under  his  influence  and  that  of  his  fol 
lowers,  it  became  the  fashion  to  represent  the  simple  life  in  pas 
toral  guice.  The  poet  of  Canticles — who  wrote  for  cultured 
circles — was  forced  to  make  use  of  the  convention.  But,  as  though 
to  excuse  himself  for  taking  a  Judean  shepherd  as  a  representa 
tive  of  the  higher  virtues,  he  made  his  shepherd  one  who  feeds 
among  the  lilies.  It  is  not  the  rude  neat-herds  of  Gilead  or  the 
Judean  desert  that  hold  such  noble  dialogues,  but  shepherds  of 
delicate  refinement.  In  a  word,  the  whole  eclogic  character  of 
Canticles  appears  to  be  copied  from  the  Theocritan  model." 

This  contention  would  be  conclusive,  if  it  were 
based  on  demonstrable  facts.     But  what  is  the  evi- 

197 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

dence  for  it?  Graetz  offers  none  in  his  brilliant 
Commentary  on  Canticles.  In  proof  of  his  start 
ling  view  that,  throughout  post-Exilic  times,  the 
shepherd  vocation  was  held  in  low  repute  among 
Israelites,  he  merely  refers  to  an  article  in  his 
Monatsschrift  (1870,  p.  483).  When  one  turns 
to  that,  one  finds  that  it  concerns  a  far  later  period, 
the  second  Christian  century,  when  the  shepherd 
vocation  had  fallen  to  the  grade  of  a  small  and  dis 
reputable  trade.  The  vocation  was  then  no  longer 
a  necessary  corollary  of  the  sacrificial  needs  of  the 
Temple.  While  the  altar  of  Jerusalem  required 
its  holocausts,  the  breeders  of  the  animals  would 
hardly  have  been  treated  as  pariahs.  In  the  cen 
tury  immediately  following  the  destruction  of  the 
Temple,  the  shepherd  began  to  fall  in  moral  es 
teem,  and  in  the  next  century  he  was  included 
among  the  criminal  categories.  No  doubt,  too,  as 
the  tender  of  flocks  was  often  an  Arab  raider,  the 
shepherd  had  become  a  dishonest  poacher  on  other 
men's  preserves.  The  attitude  towards  him  was, 
further,  an  outcome  of  the  deepening  antagonism 
between  the  schoolmen  and  the  peasantry.  But 
even  then  it  was  by  no  means  invariable.  One  of 
the  most  famous  of  Rabbis,  Akiba,  who  died  a 
martyr  in  135  c.  E.;  was  not  only  a  shepherd,  but 

198 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

he  was  also  the  hero  of  the  most  romantic  of  Rab 
binic  love  episodes. 

At  the  very  time  when  Graetz  thinks  that  agri 
culture  had  superseded  pastoral  pursuits  in  general 
esteem,  the  Book  of  Ecclesiasticus  was  written.  On 
the  one  side,  Sirach,  the  author  of  this  Apocryphal 
work,  does  not  hesitate  (ch.  xxiv)  to  compare  his 
beloved  Wisdom  to  a  garden,  in  the  same  rustic 
images  that  we  find  in  Canticles ;  and,  on  the  other 
side,  he  reveals  none  of  that  elevated  appreciation 
of  agriculture  which  Graetz  would  have  us  expect. 
Sirach  (xxxvii.  25)  asks  sarcastically  : 

How  shall  he  become  wise  that  holdeth  the  plough, 
That  glorieth  in  the  shaft  of  the  goad: 
That  driveth  oxen,  and  is  occupied  with  their  labors, 
And  whose  talk  is  of  bullocks? 

Here  it  is  the  farmer  that  is  despised,  not  a  word 
is  hinted  against  the  shepherd.  Sirach  also  has 
little  fondness  for  commerce,  and  he  denies  the 
possibility  of  wisdom  to  the  artisan  and  craftsman, 
"  in  whose  ear  is  ever  the  noise  of  the  hammer  " 
(ib.  v.  28).  Sirach,  indeed,  is  not  attacking  these 
occupations;  he  regards  them  all  as  a  necessary 
evil,  "  without  these  cannot  a  city  be  inhabited  " 
(v.  32).  Our  Jerusalem  savant,  as  Dr.  Schechter 
well  terms  him,  of  the  third  or  fourth  century 

199 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 
B.  c.  E.,  is  merely  illustrating  his  thesis,  that 

The  wisdom  of  the  scribe  cometh  by  opportunity  of  leisure; 
And  he  that  hath  little  business  shall  become  wise, 

or,  as  he  puts  it  otherwise,  sought  for  in  the  coun 
cil  of  the  people,  and  chosen  to  sit  in  the  seat  of 
the  judge.  This  view  finds  its  analogue  in  a 
famous  saying  of  the  later  Jewish  sage  Hillel, 
"  Not  everyone  who  increaseth  business  attains 
wisdom"  (Aboth)  ii.  5). 

Undeniably,  the  shepherd  lost  in  dignity  in  the 
periods  of  Jewish  prosperity  and  settled  city  life. 
But,  as  George  Adam  Smith  points  out  accurately, 
the  prevailing  character  of  Judea  is  naturally  pas 
toral,  with  husbandry  only  incidental.  "  Judea, 
indeed,  offers  as  good  ground  as  there  is  in  all  the 
East  for  observing  the  grandeur  of  the  shepherd's 
character," — his  devotion,  his  tenderness,  his  op 
portunity  of  leisurely  communion  with  nature. 
The  same  characterization  must  have  held  in  an 
cient  times.  And,  after  all,  as  Graetz  himself 
admits,  the  poet  of  Canticles  locates  his  shepherd 
in  Gilead,  the  wild  jasmine  and  other  flowers  of 
whose  pastures  (the  "  lilies  "  of  the  Song)  still 
excite  the  admiration  of  travellers.  Laurence  Oli- 
phant  is  lost  in  delight  over  the  "  anemones,  cycla 
mens,  asphodels,  iris,"  which  burst  on  his  view  as 

200 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

he  rode  "  knee-deep  through  the  long,  rich,  sweet 
grass,  abundantly  studded  with  noble  oak  and  tere 
binth  trees,"  and  all  this  in  Gilead.  When,  then, 
the  Hebrew  poet  placed  his  shepherd  and  his  flocks 
among  the  lilies,  he  was  not  trying  to  conciliate 
the  courtly  aristocrats  of  Jerusalem,  or  recon 
cile  them  to  his  Theocritan  conventions;  he  was 
simply  drawing  his  picture  from  life. 

And  as  to  the  poetical  idealization  of  the  shep 
herd,  how  could  a  Hebrew  poet  fail  to  idealize 
him,  under  the  ever-present  charm  of  his  tradi 
tional  lore,  of  Jacob  the  shepherd-patriarch, 
Moses  the  shepherd-lawgiver,  David  the  shepherd- 
king,  and  Amos  the  shepherd-prophet?  So  God 
becomes  the  Shepherd  of  Israel,  not  only  explicitly 
in  the  early  twenty-third  Psalm,  but  implicitly  also, 
in  the  late  iiQth.  The  same  idealization  is  found 
everywhere  in  the  Rabbinic  literature  as  well  as  in 
the  New  Testament.  Moses  is  the  hero  of  the 
beautiful  Midrashic  parable  of  the  straying  lamb, 
which  he  seeks  in  the  desert,  and  bears  in  his 
bosom  (Exodus  Rabba,  ii).  There  is,  on  the 
other  hand,  something  topsy-turvy  in  Graetz's  sug 
gestion,  that  a  Hebrew  poet  would  go  abroad  for 
a  conventional  idealization  of  the  shepherd  char 
acter,  just  when,  on  his  theory,  pastoral  conditions 
were  scorned  and  lightly  esteemed  at  home. 

201 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

It  was  unnecessary,  then,  and  inappropriate  for 
the  author  of  Canticles  to  go  to  Theocritus  for  the 
pastoral  characters  of  his  poem.  But  did  he  bor 
row  its  form  and  structure  from  the  Greek? 
Nothing  seems  less  akin  than  the  slight  dramatic 
interest  of  the  idylls  and  the  strong,  if  obscure, 
dramatic  plot  of  Canticles.  Bndde  has  failed  al 
together  to  convince  readers  of  the  Song  that  no 
consistent  story  runs  through  it.  It  is,  as  has  been 
said  above,  incredible  that  we  should  have  before 
us  nothing  more  than  the  disconnected  ditties  of  a 
Syrian  wedding-minstrel.  Graetz  knew  nothing 
of  the  repertoire  theory  that  has  been  based  on 
Wetzstein's  discoveries  of  modern  Syrian  mar 
riage  songs  and  dances.  Graetz  believed,  as  most 
still  do,  that  Canticles  is  a  whole,  not  an  aggrega 
tion  of  parts ;  yet  he  held  that,  not  only  the  drama 
tis  personae,  but  the  very  structure  of  the  Hebrew 
poem  must  be  traced  to  Theocritus.  He  appeals, 
in  particular,  to  the  second  Idyll  of  the  Greek  poet, 
wherein  the  lady  casts  her  magic  spells  in  the  vain 
hope  of  recovering  the  allegiance  of  her  butterfly 
admirer.  Obviously,  there  is  no  kinship  between 
the  facile  Simaitha  of  the  Idyll  and  the  difficult 
Shulammith  of  Canticles :  one  the  seeker,  the  other 
the  sought;  between  the  sensuous,  unrestrained 

202 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

passion  of  the  former  and  the  self-sacrificing,  con 
tinent  affection  of  the  latter.  The  nobler  concep 
tions  of  love  derive  from  the  Judean  maiden,  not 
from  the  Greek  paramour.  But,  argues  Graetz 
with  extraordinary  ingenuity,  Simaitha,  recounting 
her  unfortunate  love-affair,  introduces,  as  Shulam- 
mith  does,  dialogues  between  herself  and  her  ab 
sent  lover;  she  repeats  what  he  said  to  her,  and  she 
to  him ;  her  monologue  is  no  more  a  soliloquy  than 
are  the  monologues  of  Shulammith,  for  both  have 
an  audience :  here  Thestylis,  there  the  chorus  of 
women.  Simaitha's  second  refrain,  as  she  bewails 
her  love,  after  casting  the  ingredients  into  the 
bowl,  turning  the  magic  wheel  to  draw  home  to 
her  the  man  she  loves,  runs  thus: 

Bethink  thee,  mistress  Moon,  whence  came  my  love ! 

Graetz  compares  this  to  Shulammith's  refrain  in 
Canticles : 

I  adjure  you,  O  daughters  of  Jerusalem, 

By  the  roes, 

And  by  the  hinds  of  the  field, 
That  ye  stir  not  up 
Nor  awaken  love, 

Until  it  please! 

But  in  meaning  the  refrains  have  an  absolutely 
opposite  sense,  and,  more  than  that,  they  have  an 

203 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

absolutely  opposite  function.  In  the  Idyll  the  re 
frain  is  an  accompaniment,  in  the  Song  it  is  an 
intermezzo.  It  occurs  three  times  (ii.  7;  iii.  5; 
and  viii.  4),  and  like  other  repeated  refrains  in  the 
Song  concludes  a  scene,  marks  a  transition  in  the 
situation.  In  Theocritus  refrains  are  links,  in  the 
Song  they  are  breaks  in  the  chain. 

Refrains  are  of  the  essence  of  lyric  poetry  as 
soon  as  anything  like  narrative  enters  into  it. 
They  are  found  throughout  the  lyrics  of  the  Old 
Testament,  the  Psalms  providing  several  examples. 
They  belong  to  the  essence  of  the  Hebrew  strophic 
system.  And  so  it  is  with  the  other  structural  de 
vices  to  which  Graetz  refers :  reminiscent  narrative, 
reported  dialogues,  scenes  within  the  scene — all 
are  common  features  (with  certain  differences)  of 
the  native  Hebraic  style,  and  they  supply  no  justi 
fication  for  the  suggestion  of  borrowing  from  non- 
Hebraic  models. 

There  have,  on  the  other  side,  been  many,  es 
pecially  among  older  critics,  who  have  contended 
that  Theocritus  owed  his  inspiration  to  Canticles. 
These  have  not  been  disturbed  by  the  considera 
tion,  that,  if  he  borrowed  at  all,  he  must  assuredly 
have  borrowed  more  than  the  most  generous  of 
them  assert  that  he  did.  Recently  an  ingenious 

204 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

advocate  of  this  view  has  appeared  in  Professor 
D.  S.  Margoliouth,  all  of  whose  critical  work  is 
rich  in  originality  and  surprises.  In  the  first  chap 
ter  of  his  "  Lines  of  Defence  of  the  Biblical  Reve 
lation,"  he  turns  the  tables  on  Graetz  with  quite 
entertaining  thoroughness.  Graetz  was  certain 
that  no  Hebrew  poet  could  have  drawn  his  shep 
herds  from  life;  Margoliouth  is  equally  sure  that 
no  Greek  could  have  done  so. 

"That  this  style  [bucolic  poetry],  in  which  highly  artificial 
performances  are  ascribed  to  shepherds  and  cowherds,  should 
have  originated  in  Greece,  would  be  surprising;  for  the  persons 
who  followed  these  callings  were  ordinarily  slaves,  or  humble 
hirelings,  whom  the  classical  writers  treat  with  little  respect. 
But  from  the  time  of  Theocritus  their  profession  becomes  asso 
ciated  with  poetic  art.  The  shepherd's  clothes  are  donned  by 
Virgil,  Spenser,  and  Milton.  The  existence  of  the  Greek  transla 
tion  of  the  Song  of  Solomon  gives  us  the  explanation  of  this  fact. 
The  Song  of  Solomon  is  a  pastoral  poem,  but  its  pictures  are  true 
to  nature.  The  father  of  the  writer  [Margoliouth  believes  in  the 
Solomonic  authorship  of  Canticles],  himself  both  a  king  and  a 
poet,  had  kept  sheep.  The  combination  of  court  life  with  country 
life,  which  in  Theocritus  seems  so  unnatural,  was  perfectly 
natural  in  pre-Exilic  Palestine.  Hence  the  rich  descriptions  of 
the  country  (ii.  12)  beside  the  glowing  descriptions  of  the  king's 
wealth  (iii.  10).  Theocritus  can  match  both  (Idylls  vii  and  xv), 
but  it  may  be  doubted  whether  he  could  have  found  any  Greek 
model  for  either." 

205 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

It  is  disturbing  to  one's  confidence  in  the  value 
of  Biblical  criticism — both  of  the  liberal  school 
(Graetz)  and  the  conservative  (Margoliouth)  — 
to  come  across  so  complete  an  antithesis.  But 
things  are  not  quite  so  bad  as  they  look.  Each 
critic  is  half  right — Margoliouth  in  believing  the 
pastoral  pictures  of  Canticles  true  to  Judean  life, 
Graetz  in  esteeming  the  pastoral  pictures  of  the 
Idylls  true  to  Sicilian  life.  The  English  critic  sup 
ports  his  theme  with  some  philological  arguments. 
He  suggests  that  the  vagaries  of  the  Theocritan 
dialect  are  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Idyllist  was  a 
foreigner,  whose  native  language  was  "  probably 
Hebrew  or  Syriac."  Or  perhaps  Theocritus  used 
the  Greek  translation  of  the  Song,  "  unless  The 
ocritus  himself  was  the  translator."  All  of  this  is 
a  capital  jeu  d' esprit,  but  it  is  scarcely  possible  that 
Canticles  was  translated  into  Greek  so  early  as 
Theocritus,  and,  curiously  enough,  the  Septuagint 
Greek  version  of  the  Song  has  less  linguistic  like 
ness  to  the  phraseology  of  Theocritus  than  has 
the  Greek  version  of  the  Song  by  a  contempo 
rary  of  Akiba,  the  proselyte  Aquila.  Margoliouth 
points  out  a  transference  by  Theocritus  of  the 
word  for  daughter-in-law  to  the  meaning  bride 
(Idyll,  xviii.  15).  This  is  a  Hebraism,  he  thinks. 

206 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

But  expansions  of  meaning  in  words  signifying 
relationship  are  common  to  all  poets.  Far  more 
curious  is  a  transference  of  this  kind  that  Theoc 
ritus  does  not  make.  Had  he  known  Canticles, 
he  would  surely  have  seized  upon  the  Hebrew 
use  of  sister  to  mean  beloved,  a  usage  which,  in 
nocent  and  tender  enough  in  the  Hebrew,  would 
have  been  highly  acceptable  to  the  incestuous  pat 
ron  of  Theocritus,  who  actually  married  his  full 
sister.  Strange  to  say,  the  ancient  Egyptian  love 
poetry  employs  the  terms  brother  and  sister  as 
regular  denotations  of  a  pair  of  lovers. 

This  last  allusion  to  an  ancient  Egyptian  simi 
larity  to  a  characteristic  usage  of  Canticles  leads  to 
the  remark,  that  Maspero  and  Spiegelberg  have 
both  published  hieroglyphic  poems  of  the  xixth- 
xxth  Dynasties,  in  which  may  be  found  other  paral 
lels  to  the  metaphors  and  symbolism  of  the  He 
brew  Song.  As  earlier  writers  exaggerated  the 
likeness  of  Canticles  to  Theocritus,  so  Maspero 
was  at  first  inclined  to  exaggerate  the  affinity  of 
Canticles  to  the  old  Egyptian  amatory  verse.  It 
is  not  surprising,  but  it  is  saddening,  to  find  that 
Maspero,  summarizing  his  interesting  discovery  in 
1883,  used  almost  the  same  language  as  Lessing 
had  used  in  1777  with  reference  to  Theocritus. 

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HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

Maspero,  it  is  true,  was  too  sane  a  critic  to  assert 
borrowing  on  the  part  of  Canticles.  But  he  speaks 
of  the  "  same  manner  of  speech,  the  same  images, 
the  same  comparisons,"  as  Lessing  does.  Now  if 
A  =  B,  and  B  =  C,  then  it  follows  that  A=C.  But 
in  this  case  A  does  not  equal  C.  There  is  no  simi 
larity  at  all  between  the  Egyptian  Songs  and  The 
ocritus.  It  follows  that  there  is  no  essential  like 
ness  betwen  Canticles  and  either  of  the  other  two. 
In  his  later  books,  Maspero  has  tacitly  withdrawn 
his  assertion  of  close  Egyptian  similarity,  and  it 
would  be  \vell  if  an  equally  frank  withdrawal  were 
made  by  the  advocates  of  a  close  Theocritan 
parallel. 

Some  of  the  suggested  resemblances  between 
the  Hebrew  and  Greek  Songs  are  perhaps  inter 
esting  enough  to  be  worth  examining  in  detail.  In 
Idyll  i.  24,  the  goatherd  offers  this  reward  to 
Thyrsis,  if  he  will  but  sing  the  song  of  Daphnis: 

I'll  give  thee  first 

To  milk,  ay,  thrice,  a  goat;   she  suckles  twins, 
Yet  ne'ertheless  can  fill  two  milkpails  full. 

It  can  hardly  be  put  forward  as  a  remarkable  fact 
that  the  poet  should  refer  to  so  common  an  inci 
dent  in  sheep-breeding  as  the  birth  of  twins.  Yet 
the  twins  have  been  forced  into  the  dispute,  though 

208 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

it  is  hard  to  conceive  anything  more  unlike  than 
the  previous  quotation  and  the  one  that  follows 
from  Canticles  (iv.  2)  : 

Thy  teeth  are  like  a  flock  of  ewes, 
That  are  newly  shorn, 
Which  are  come  up  from  the  washing, 

Whereof  every  one  hath  twins, 

And  none  is  bereaved  among  them. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  Hebrew  knows  any 
thing  at  all  of  the  twin-bearing  ewes;  the  penulti 
mate  line  ought  rather  to  be  rendered  (as  in  the 
margin  of  the  Revised  Version)  "  thy  teeth  .... 
which  are  all  of  them  in  pairs."  But,  however 
rendered,  the  Hebrew  means  this.  Theocritus 
speaks  of  the  richness  of  the  goat's  milk,  for,  after 
having  fed  her  twins,  she  has  still  enough  milk  to 
fill  two  pails.  In  Canticles,  the  maiden's  teeth, 
spotlessly  white,  are  smooth  and  even,  "  they  run 
accurately  in  pairs,  the  upper  corresponding  to  the 
lower,  and  none  of  them  is  wanting  "  (Harper). 

Even  more  amusing  is  the  supposed  indebted 
ness  on  one  side  or  the  other  in  the  reference  made 
by  Theocritus  and  Canticles  to  the  ravages  of 
foxes  in  vineyards.  Theocritus  has  these  beautiful 
lines  in  his  first  Idyll  (lines  44  et  seq.)  : 
14  209 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

Hard  by  that  wave-beat  sire  a  vineyard  bends 
Beneath  its  graceful  load  of  burnished  grapes; 
A  boy  sits  on  the  rude  fence  watching  them. 
Near  him  two  foxes:  down  the  rows  of  grapes 
One  ranging  steals  the  ripest;  one  assails 
With  wiles  the  poor  lad's  scrip,  to  leave  him  soon 
Stranded  and  supperless.     He  plaits  meanwhile 
With  ears  of  corn  a  right  fine  cricket-trap, 
And  fits  it  in  a  rush:  for  vines,  for  scrip, 
Little  he  cares,  enamored  of  his  toy. 

How  different  the  scene  in  Canticles  (ii.  14  et  seq.) 
that  has  been  quoted  above ! 

Take  us  the  foxes, 

The  little  foxes, 

That  spoil  the  vineyards, 
For  our  vineyards  are  in  blossom ! 

Canticles  alludes  to  the  destruction  of  the  young 
shoots,  Theocritus  pictures  the  foxes  devouring  the 
ripe  grapes.  (Comp.  also  Idyll  v.  112.)  Foxes 
commit  both  forms  of  depredation,  but  the  poets 
have  seized  on  different  aspects  of  the  fact.  Even 
were  the  aspects  identical,  it  would  be  ridiculous 
to  suppose  that  the  Sicilian  or  Judean  had  been 
guilty  of  plagiarism.  To-day,  as  of  old,  in  the 
vineyards  of  Palestine  you  may  see  the  little  stone 
huts  of  the  watchers  on  the  lookout  for  the  foxes, 

210 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

or  jackals,  whose  visitations  begin  in  the  late  spring 
and  continue  to  the  autumn.  In  Canticles  we  have 
a  genuine  fragment  of  native  Judean  folk-song;  in 
Theocritus  an  equally  native  item  of  every  sea 
son's  observation. 

So  with  most  of  the  other  parallels.  It  is  only 
necessary  to  set  out  the  passages  in  full,  to  see  that 
the  similarity  is  insignificant  in  relation  to  the  real 
differences.  One  would  have  thought  that  any 
poet  dealing  with  rustic  beauty  might  light  on  the 
fact  that  a  sunburnt  skin  may  be  attractive.  Yet 
Margoliouth  dignifies  this  simple  piece  of  observa 
tion  into  a  theory!  "  The  theory  that  swarthiness 
produced  by  sun-burning  need  not  be  disfiguring  to 
a  woman  "  is,  Margoliouth  holds,  taken  by  The 
ocritus  from  Canticles.  Graetz,  as  usual,  reverses 
the  relation:  Canticles  took  it  from  Theocritus. 
But  beyond  the  not  very  recondite  idea  that  a  sun 
burnt  maid  may  still  be  charming,  there  is  no  paral 
lel.  Battus  sings  (Idyll  x.  26  et  seq.)  : 

Fair  Bombyca !  thee  do  men  report 

Lean,  dusk,  a  gipsy:  I  alone  nut-brown. 

Violets  and  pencilled  hyacinths  are  swart, 

Yet  first  of  flowers  they're  chosen  for  a  crown. 

As  goats  pursue  the  clover,  wolves  the  goat, 

And  cranes  the  ploughman,  upon  thee  I  dote ! 
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HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 
In  Canticles  the  Shulammite  protests  (L  5  et  seq.)  : 

I  am  black  but  comely, 

O  ye  daughters  of  Jerusalem! 
[Black]  as  the  tents  of  Kedar, 
[Comely]  as  the  curtains  of  Solomon. 

Despise  me  not  because  I  am  swarthy, 
Because  the  sun  hath  scorched  me. 
My  mother's  sons  were  incensed  against  me, 
They  made  me  the  keeper  of  the  vineyards, 
But  mine  own  vineyard  I  have  not  kept! 

Two  exquisite  lyrics  these,  of  which  it  is  hard  to 
say  which  has  been  more  influential  as  a  key-note 
of  later  poetry.  But  neither  of  them  is  derived; 
each  is  too  spontaneous,  too  fresh  from  the  poet's 
soul. 

Before  turning  to  one  rather  arrestive  parallel, 
a  word  may  be  said  on  Graetz's  idea,  that  Can 
ticles  uses  the  expression  "  love's  arrows."  Were 
this  so,  the  symbolism  could  scarcely  be  attributed 
to  other  than  a  Greek  original.  The  line  occurs 
in  the  noble  panegyric  of  love  cited ,  before,  with 
which  Canticles  ends,  and  in  which  the  whole 
drama  culminates.  There  is  no  room  in  this  eulogy 
for  Graetz's  rendering,  "  Her  arrows  are  fiery 
arrows,"  nor  can  the  Hebrew  easily  mean  it. 
"  The  flashes  thereof  are  flashes  of  fire,"  is  the 

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HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

best  translation  possible  of  the  Hebrew  line. 
There  is  nothing  Greek  in  the  comparison  of  love 
to  fire,  for  fire  is  used  in  common  Hebrew  idiom 
to  denote  any  powerful  emotion  (comp.  the  asso 
ciation  of  fire  with  jealousy  in  Ezekiel  xxxix.  4). 

Ewald,  while  refusing  to  connect  the  Idylls  with 
Canticles,  admitted,  that  one  particular  parallel  is 
at  first  sight  forcible.  It  is  the  comparison  of  both 
Helen  and  Shulammith  to  a  horse.  Margoliouth 
thinks  the  Greek  inexplicable  without  the  Hebrew ; 
Graetz  thinks  the  Hebrew  inexplicable  without  the 
Greek.  In  point  of  fact,  the  Hebrew  and  the 
Greek  do  not  explain  each  other  in  the  least.  In 
the  Epithalamium  (Idyll  xviii.  30)  Theocritus 
writes, 

Or  as  in  a  chariot  a  mare  of  Thessalian  breed, 
So  is  rose-red  Helen,  the  glory  of  Lacedemon. 

The  exact  point  of  comparison  is  far  from  clear, 
but  it  must  be  some  feature  of  beauty  or  grace. 
Such  a  comparison,  says  Margoliouth,  is  extraordi 
nary  in  a  Greek  poet;  he  must  have  derived  it  from 
a  non-Greek  source.  But  it  has  escaped  this  critic 
and  all  the  commentaries  on  Theocritus,  that  just 
this  comparison  is  perfectly  natural  for  a  Sicilian 
poet,  familiar  with  several  series  of  Syracusan 
coins  of  all  periods,  on  which  appear  chariots  with 

213 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

Nike  driving  horses  of  the  most  delicate  beauty, 
fit  figures  to  compare  to  a  maiden's  grace  of  form. 
Theocritus,  however,  does  not  actually  compare 
Helen  to  the  horse;  she  beautifies  or  sets  off  Lace- 
demon  as  the  horse  sets  off  the  chariot.  Graetz, 
convinced  that  the  figure  is  Greek,  pronounces  the 
Hebrew  unintelligible  without  it.  But  it  is  quite 
appropriate  to  the  Hebrew  poet.  Having  identi 
fied  his  royal  lover  with  Solomon,  the  poet  was 
almost  driven  to  make  some  allusion  to  Solomon's 
famed  exploit  in  importing  costly  horses  and  chari 
ots  from  Egypt  (I  Kings  x.  26-29).  And  so  Can 
ticles  says  (i.  9)  : 

I  have  compared  thee,  O  my  love, 
To  a  team  of  horses,  in  Pharaoh's  chariots. 
Thy  cheeks  are  comely  with  rows  of  pearls, 
Thy  neck  with  chains  of  gold. 

The  last  couplet  refers  to  the  ornaments  of  the 
horse's  bridle  and  neck.  Now,  to  the  Hebrew  the 
horse  was  almost  invariably  associated  with  war. 
The  Shulammite  is  elsewhere  (vi.  4)  termed  "  ter 
rible  as  an  army  with  banners."  In  Theocritus  the 
comparison  is  primarily  to  Helen's  beauty;  in  Can 
ticles  to  the  Shulammite's  awesomeness, 

Turn  away  thine  eyes  from  me, 
For  they  have  made  me  afraid. 
214 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

These  foregoing  points  of  resemblance  are  the 
most  significant  that  have  been  adduced.  And 
they  are  not  only  seen  to  be  each  unimportant  and 
inconclusive,  but  they  have  no  cumulative  effect. 
Taken  as  wholes,  as  was  said  above,  the  Idylls  and 
Canticles  are  the  poles  asunder  in  their  moral  atti 
tude  towards  love  and  in  their  general  literary 
treatment  of  the  theme.  Of  course,  poets  describ 
ing  the  spring  will  always  speak  of  the  birds; 
Greek  and  Hebrew  loved  flowers,  Jew  and  Egyp 
tian  heard  the  turtle-dove  as  a  harbinger  of  na 
ture's  rebirth ;  sun  and  moon  are  everywhere  types 
of  warm  and  tender  feelings;  love  is  the  converter 
of  a  winter  of  discontent  into  a  glorious  summer. 
In  all  love  poems  the  wooer  would  fain  embrace 
the  wooed.  And  if  she  prove  coy,  he  will  tell  of 
the  menial  parts  he  would  be  ready  to  perform,  to 
continue  unrebuked  in  her  vicinity.  Anacreon's 
lover  (xx)  would  be  water  in  which  the  maid 
should  bathe,  and  the  Egyptian  sighs,  "  Were  I  but 
the  washer  of  her  clothes,  I  should  breathe  the 
scent  of  her."  Or  the  Egyptian  will  cry,  "  O  were 
I  the  ring  on  her  finger,  that  I  might  be  ever  with 
her,"  just  as  the  Shulammite  bids  her  beloved 
(though  in  another  sense)  "  Place  me  as  a  seal 
on  thine  hand"  (Cant.  viii.  6).  Love  intoxicates 

215 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

like  wine;  the  maiden  has  a  honeyed  tongue;  her 
forehead  and  neck  are  like  ivory.  Nothing  in  all 
this  goes  beyond  the  identity  of  feeling  that  lies 
behind  all  poetical  expression.  But  even  in  this 
realm  of  metaphor  and  image  and  symbolism, 
the  North-Semitic  wasf  and  even  more  the  He 
braic  parallels  given  in  other  parts  of  the  Bible  are 
closer  far.  Hosea  xiv.  6-9  (with  its  lilies,  its  fig 
ure  of  Israel  growing  in  beauty  as  the  olive  tree, 
"  and  his  smell  as  Lebanon"),  Proverbs  (with 
its  eulogy  of  faithful  wedded  love,  its  lips  dropping 
honeycomb,  its  picture  of  a  bed  perfumed  with 
myrrh,  aloes,  and  cinnamon,  the  wife  to  love  whom 
is  to  drink  water  from  one's  own  well,  and  she  the 
pleasant  roe  and  loving  hind) — these  and  the 
royal  Epithalamium  (Ps.  xlv),  and  other  Biblical 
passages  too  numerous  to  quote,  constitute  the  real 
parallels  to  the  imagery  and  idealism  of  Canticles. 
The  only  genuine  resemblance  arises  from  iden 
tity  of  environment.  If  Theocritus  and  the  poet 
of  Canticles  were  contemporaries,  they  wrote  when 
there  had  been  a  somewhat  sudden  growth  of 
town  life  both  in  Egypt  and  Palestine.  Alexander 
the  Great  and  his  immediate  successors  were  the 
most  assiduous  builders  of  new  cities  that  the 
world  has  ever  seen.  The  charms  of  town  life 

216 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

made  an  easy  conquest  of  the  Orient.  But  pastoral 
life  would  not  surrender  without  a  struggle.  It 
would,  during  this  violent  revolution  in  habits,  re 
assert  itself  from  time  to  time.  We  can  suppose 
that  after  a  century  of  experience  of  the  delusions 
of  urban  comfort,  the  denizens  of  towns  would 
welcome  a  reminder  of  the  delights  of  life  under 
the  open  sky.  There  would  be  a  longing  for  some 
thing  fresher,  simpler,  freer.  At  such  a  moment 
Theocritus,  like  the  poet  of  Canticles,  had  an  irre 
sistible  opportunity,  and  to  this  extent  the  Idylls 
and  the  Song  are  parallel. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  when  we  pass  from  ex 
ternal  conditions  to  intrinsic  purport,  nothing 
shows  better  the  difference  between  Theocritus  and 
Canticles  than  the  fact  that  the  Hebrew  poem  has 
been  so  susceptible  of  allegorization.  Though  the 
religious,  symbolical  interpretation  of  the  Song  be 
far  from  its  primary  meaning,  yet  in  the  Hebrew 
muse  the  sensuous  and  the  mystical  glide  imper 
ceptibly  into  one  another.  And  this  is  true  of 
Semitic  poetry  in  general.  It  is  possible  to  give  a 
mystical  turn  to  the  quatrains  of  Omar  Khayyam. 
But  this  can  hardly  be  done  with  Anacreon.  There 
is  even  less  trace  of  Semitic  mysticism  in  Theocri 
tus  than  in  Anacreon.  Idylls  and  Canticles  have 

217 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

some  similarities.  But  these  are  only  skin  deep. 
In  their  heart  of  hearts  the  Greek  and  Judean 
poets  are  strangers,  and  so  are  their  heroes  and 
heroines. 

No  apology  is  needed  for  the  foregoing  lengthy 
discussion  of  the  Song  of  Songs,  seeing  that  it  is 
incomparably  the  finest  love  poem  in  the  Hebrew, 
or  any  other  language.  And  this  is  true  whatever 
be  one's  opinion  of  its  primary  significance.  It 
was  no  doubt  its  sacred  interpretation  that  im 
parted  to  it  so  lasting  a  power  over  religious  sym 
bolism.  But  its  human  import  also  entered  into 
its  eternal  influence.  The  Greek  peasants  of 
Macedonia  still  sing  echoes  from  the  Hebrew  song. 
Still  may  be  heard,  in  modern  Greek  love  chants, 
the  sweet  old  phrase,  "  black  but  comely,"  a  favor 
ite  phrase  with  all  swarthy  races;  "  my  sister,  my 
bride  "  remains  as  the  most  tender  term  of  endear 
ment.  To  a  certain  extent  the  service  has  been  re 
paid.  Some  of  the  finest  melodies  to  which  the 
Synagogue  hymns,  or  Piyyutim,  are  set,  are  the 
melodies  to  Achoth  Ketannah,  based  on  Canticles 
viii.  8,  and  Berach  Dodi,  a  frequent  phrase  of  the 
Hebrew  book.  The  latter  melody  is  similar  to 
the  finer  melodies  of  the  Levant;  the  former  strik 
ingly  recalls  the  contemporary  melodies  of  the 

218 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

Greek  Archipelago.  To  turn  a  final  glance  at  the 
other  side  of  the  indebtedness,  we  need  only  recall 
that  Edmund  Spenser's  famous  Marriage  Ode — 
the  Epithalamium — the  noblest  marriage  ode  in 
the  English  language,  and  Milton's  equally  famous 
description  of  Paradise  in  the  fourth  book  of  his 
Epic,  owe  a  good  deal  to  direct  imitation  of  the 
Song  of  Songs.  It  is  scarcely  an  exaggeration  to 
assert  that  the  stock-in-trade  of  many  an  erotic 
poet  is  simply  the  phraseology  of  the  divine  song 
which  we  have  been  considering  so  inadequately. 
It  did  not  start  as  a  repertoire ;  it  has  ended  as  one. 
We  must  now  make  a  great  stride  through  the 
ages.  Between  the  author  of  the  Song  of  Songs 
and  the  next  writer  of  inspired  Hebrew  love  songs 
there  stretches  an  interval  of  at  least  fourteen  cen 
turies.  It  is  an  oft-told  story,  how,  with  the  de 
struction  of  the  Temple,  the  Jewish  desire  for  song 
temporarily  ceased.  The  sorrow-laden  heart 
could  not  sing  of  love.  The  disuse  of  a  faculty 
leads  to  its  loss;  and  so,  with  the  cessation  of  the 
desire  for  song,  the  gift  of  singing  became  atro 
phied.  But  the  decay  was  not  quite  complete.  It 
is  commonly  assumed  that  post-Biblical  Hebrew 
poetry  revived  for  sacred  ends;  first  hymns  were 
written,  then  secular  songs.  But  Dr.  Brody  has 

219 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

proved  that  this  assumption  is  erroneous.  In 
point  of  fact,  the  first  Hebrew  poetry  after  the 
Bible  was  secular  not  religious.  We  find  in  the 
pages  of  Talmud  and  Midrash  relics  and  frag 
ments  of  secular  poetry,  snatches  of  bridal  songs, 
riddles,  elegies,  but  less  evidence  of  a  religious 
poetry.  True,  when  once  the  medieval  burst  of 
Hebrew  melody  established  itself,  the  Hebrew 
hymns  surpassed  the  secular  Hebrew  poems  in 
originality  and  inspiration.  But  the  secular  verses, 
whether  on  ordinary  subjects,  or  as  addresses  to 
famous  men,  and  invocations  on  documents,  at 
times  far  exceed  the  religious  poems  in  range  and 
number.  And  in  many  ways  the  secular  poetry  de 
serves  very  close  attention.  A  language  is  not  liv 
ing  when  it  is  merely  ecclesiastical.  No  one  calls 
Sanskrit  a  living  language  because  some  Indian 
sects  still  pray  in  Sanskrit.  But  when  Jewish  poets 
took  to  using  Hebrew  again — if,  indeed,  they  ever 
ceased  to  use  it — as  the  language  of  daily  life,  as 
the  medium  for  expressing  their  human  emotions, 
then  one  can  see  that  the  sacred  tongue  was  on  the 
way  to  becoming  once  more  what  it  is  to-day  in 
many  parts  of  Palestine — the  living  tongue  of 
men. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  in  the  Middle  Ages 
220 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

there  were  two  classes  of  Hebrew  poets :  those 
who  wrote  hymns  and  those  who  wrote  love  songs. 
With  the  exception  of  Solomon  ibn  Gabirol — a 
big  exception,  I  admit — the  best  love  songs  were 
written  by  the  best  hymn  writers.  Even  Ibn  Gabi 
rol,  who,  so  far  as  we  know,  wrote  no  love  songs, 
composed  other  kinds  of  secular  poetry.  One  of 
the  favorite  poetical  forms  of  the  Middle  Ages 
consisted  of  metrical  letters  to  friends — one  may 
almost  assert  that  the  best  Hebrew  love  poetry  is 
of  this  type — epistles  of  affection  between  man  and 
man,  expressing  a  love  passing  the  love  of  woman. 
Ibn  Gabirol  wrote  such  epistles,  but  the  fact  re 
mains  that  we  know  of  no  love  verses  from  his 
hand;  perhaps  this  confirms  the  tradition  that  he 
was  the  victim  of  an  unrequited  affection. 

Thus  the  new  form  opens  not  with  Ibn  Gabirol, 
but  with  Samuel  ibn  Nagrela.  He  was  Vizier  of 
the  Khalif,  and  Nagid,  or  Prince,  of  the  Jews,  in 
the  eleventh  century  in  Spain,  and,  besides  Syna 
gogue  hymns  and  Talmudic  treatises,  he  wrote 
love  lyrics.  The  earlier  hymns  of  Kalir  have,  in 
deed,  a  strong  emotional  undertone,  but  the  Span 
ish  school  may  justly  claim  to  have  created  a  new 
form.  And  this  new  form  opens  with  Samuel  the 
Nagid's  pretty  verses  on  his  "  Stammering  Love," 

221 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

who  means  to  deny,  but  stammers  out  assent.  I 
cite  the  metrical  German  version  of  Dr.  Egers, 
because  I  have  found  it  impossible  to  reproduce 
(Dr.  Egers  is  not  very  precise  or  happy  in  his  at 
tempt  to  reproduce)  the  puns  of  the  original.  The 
sense,  however,  is  clear.  The  stammering  maid's 
words,  being  mumbled,  convey  an  invitation,  when 
they  were  intended  to  repulse  her  loving  admirer. 

Wo  ist  mein  stammelnd  Lieb? 
Wo  sie,  die  wurz'ge,  blieb? 
Verdunkelt  der  Mond  der  Sterne  Licht, 
Ueberstrahlt  den  Mond  ihr  Angesicht! 
Wie  Schwalbe,  wie  Kranich,  die 
Bei  ihrer  Ankunft  girren, 
Vertraut  auf  ihren  Gott  auch  sie 
In  ihrer  Zunge  Irren. 

Mir  schmollend  rief  sie  "  Erzdieb," 
Hervor  doch  haucht  sie  "  Herzdieb  " — 
Hin  springe  ich  zum  Herzlieb. 
"  Ehrloser !  "  statt  zu  wehren, 
"  Her,  Loser !  "    lasst  sie  horen ; 
Nur  rascher  dem  Begehren 
Folgt'  ich  mit  ihr  zu  kosen, 
Die  lieblich  ist  wie  Rosen. 

This  poem  deserves  attention,  as  it  is  one  of  the 
first,  if  not  actually  the  very  first,  of  its  kind.  The 
Hebrew  poet  is  forsaking  the  manner  of  the  Bible 

222 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

for  the  manner  of  the  Arabs.  One  point  of  re 
semblance  between  the  new  Hebrew  and  the  Ara 
bic  love  poetry  is  obscured  in  the  translation.  In 
the  Hebrew  of  Samuel  the  Nagid  the  terms  of 
endearment,  applied  though  they  are  to  a  girl,  are 
all  in  the  masculine  gender.  This,  as  Dr.  Egers 
observes,  is  a  common  feature  of  the  Arabic  and 
Persian  love  poetry  of  ancient  and  modern  times. 
An  Arab  poet  will  praise  his  fair  one's  face  as 
"  bearded "  with  garlands  of  lilies.  Hafiz  de 
scribes  a  girl's  cheeks  as  roses  within  a  net  of  vio 
lets,  the  net  referring  to  the  beard.  Jehudah  Halevi 
uses  this  selfsame  image,  and  Moses  ibn  Ezra  and 
the  rest  also  employ  manly  figures  of  speech  in  por 
traying  beautiful  women.  All  this  goes  to  show 
how  much,  besides  rhyme  and  versification,  medi 
eval  Hebrew  love  poetry  owed  to  Arabic  models. 
Here,  for  instance,  is  an  Arabic  poem,  whose  au 
thor,  Radhi  Billah,  died  in  940,  that  is,  before  the 
Spanish  Jewish  poets  began  to  write  of  love.  To 
an  Arabic  poet  Laila  replaces  the  Lesbia  of  Catul 
lus  and  the  Chloe  of  the  Elizabethans.  This 
tenth  century  Arabic  poem  runs  thus : 

Laila,  whene'er  I  gaze  on  thee, 

My  altered  cheeks  turn  pale; 
While  upon  thine,  sweet  maid,  I  see 

A  deep'ning  blush  prevail. 
223 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

Laila,  shall  I  the  cause  impart 
Why  such  a  change  takes  place? — 

The  crimson  stream  deserts  my  heart 
To  mantle  on  thy  face. 

Here  we  have  fully  in  bloom,  in  the  tenth  cen 
tury,  those  conceits  which  meet  us,  not  only  in  the 
Hebrew  poets  of  the  next  two  centuries,  but  also 
in  the  English  poets  of  the  later  Elizabethan  age. 
It  is  very  artificial  and  scarcely  sincere,  but  also  un 
deniably  attractive.  Or,  again,  in  the  lines  of  Zo- 
heir,  addressed  by  the  lover  to  a  messenger  that 
has  just  brought  tidings  from  the  beloved, 

Oh !  let  me  look  upon  thine  eyes  again, 
For  they  have  looked  upon  the  maid  I  love, 

we  have,  in  the  thirteenth  century,  the  very  airs 
and  tricks  of  the  cavalier  poets.  In  fact,  it  can 
not  be  too  often  said  that  love  poetry,  like  love  it 
self,  is  human  and  eternal,  not  of  a  people  and  an 
age,  but  of  all  men  and  all  times.  Though 
fashions  change  in  poetry  as  in  other  ornament, 
still  the  language  of  love  has  a  long  life,  and  age 
after  age  the  same  conceits  and  terms  of  endear 
ment  meet  us.  Thus  Hafiz  has  these  lines, 

I  praise  God  who  made  day  and  night: 
Day  thy  countenance,  and  thy  hair  the  night. 
224 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

Long  before  him  the  Hebrew  poet  Abraham  ibn 
Ezra  had  written, 

On  thy  cheeks  and  the  hair  of  thy  head 

I  will  bless:   He  formeth  light  and  maketh  darkness. 

In  the  thirteenth  century  the  very  same  witticism 
meets  us  again,  in  the  Hebrew  Machberoth  of  Im- 
manuel.  But  obviously  it  would  be  an  endless 
task  to  trace  the  similarities  of  poetic  diction  be 
tween  Hebrew  and  other  poets :  suffice  it  to  realize 
that  such  similarities  exist. 

Such  similarities  did  not,  however,  arise  only 
from  natural  causes.  They  were,  in  part  at  all 
events,  due  to  artificial  compulsion.  It  is  well  to 
bear  this  in  mind,  for  the  recurrence  of  identical 
images  in  Hebrew  love  poem  after  love  poem  im 
presses  a  Western  reader  as  a  defect.  To  the  Ori 
ental  reader,  on  the  contrary,  the  repetition  of 
metaphors  seemed  a  merit.  It  was  one  of  the  rules 
of  the  game.  In  his  "  Literary  History  of  Per 
sia  "  Professor  Browne  makes  this  so  clear  that  a 
citation  from  him  will  save  me  many  pages.  Pro 
fessor  Browne  (ii,  83)  analyzes  Sharafu'd-Din 
Kami's  rhetorical  handbook  entitled  the  "  Lover's 
Companion."  The  "  Companion  "  legislates  as 
to  the  similes  and  figures  that  may  be  used  in  de 
scribing  the  features  of  a  girl. 
15  225 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

"  It  contains  nineteen  chapters,  treating  respectively  of  the  hair, 
the  forehead,  the  eyebrows,  the  eyes,  the  eyelashes,  the  face,  the 
down  on  lips  and  cheeks,  the  mole  or  beauty-spot,  the  lips,  the 
teeth,  the  mouth,  the  chin,  the  neck,  the  bosom,  the  arm,  the 
fingers,  the  figure,  the  waist,  and  the  legs.  In  each  chapter  the 
author  first  gives  the  various  terms  applied  by  the  Arabs  and 
Persians  to  the  part  which  he  is  discussing,  differentiating  them 
when  any  difference  in  meaning  exists;  then  the  metaphors  used 
by  writers  in  speaking  of  them,  and  the  epithets  applied  to  them, 
the  whole  copiously  illustrated  by  examples  from  the  poets." 

No  other  figures  of  speech  would  be  admissible. 
Now  this  "  Companion  "  belongs  to  the  fourteenth 
century,  and  the  earlier  Arabic  and  Persian  poetry 
was  less  fettered.  But  principles  of  this  kind 
clearly  affected  the  Hebrew  poets,  and  hence  there 
arises  a  certain  monotony  in  the  songs,  especially 
when  they  are  read  in  translation.  The  monotony 
is  not  so  painfully  prominent  in  the  originals.  For 
the  translator  can  only  render  the  substance,  and 
the  substance  is  often  more  conventional  than  the 
nuances  of  form,  the  happy  turns  and  subtleties, 
which  evaporate  in  the  process  of  translation,  leav 
ing  only  the  conventional  sediment  behind. 

This  is  true  even  of  Jehudah  Halevi,  though  in 
him  we  hear  a  genuinely  original  note.  In  his  Syn 
agogue  hymns  he  joins  hands  with  the  past,  with 
the  Psalmists;  in  his  love  poems  he  joins  hands 

226 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

with  the  future,  with  Heine.  His  love  poetry  is 
at  once  dainty  and  sincere.  He  draws  indiscrimi 
nately  on  Hebrew  and  Arabic  models,  but  he  is  no 
mere  imitator.  I  will  not  quote  much  from  him, 
for  his  best  verses  are  too  familiar.  Those  exam 
ples  which  I  must  present  are  given  in  a  new  and 
hitherto  unpublished  translation  by  Mrs.  Lucas. 

MARRIAGE  SONG 

Fair  is  my  dove,  my  loved  one, 
None  can  with  her  compare: 
Yea,  comely  as  Jerusalem, 
Like  unto  Tirzah  fair. 

Shall  she  in  tents  unstable 

A  wanderer  abide, 
While  in  my  heart  awaits  her 

A  dwelling  deep  and  wide? 

The  magic  of  her  beauty 

Has  stolen  my  heart  away: 
Not  Egypt's  wise  enchanters 

Held  half  such  wondrous  sway. 

E'en  as  the  changing  opal 

In  varying  lustre  glows, 
Her  face  at  every  moment 

New  charms  and  sweetness  shows. 
227 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

White  lilies  and  red  roses 
There  blossom  on  one  stem: 

Her  lips  of  crimson  berries 
Tempt  mine  to  gather  them. 

By  dusky  tresses  shaded 

Her  brow  gleams  fair  and  pale, 
Like  to  the  sun  at  twilight, 

Behind  a  cloudy  veil. 

Her  beauty  shames  the  day-star, 
And  makes  the  darkness  light: 

Day  in  her  radiant  presence 
Grows  seven  times  more  bright. 

This  is  a  lonely  lover ! 

Come,  fair  one,  to  his  side, 
That  happy  be  together 
The  bridegroom  and  the  bride! 

The  hour  of  love  approaches 
That  shall  make  one  of  twain: 

Soon  may  be  thus  united 
All  Israel's  hosts  again ! 

OPHRAH 

To  her  sleeping  Love 
Awake,  my  fair,  my  love,  awake, 

That  I  may  gaze  on  thee! 
And  if  one  fain  to  kiss  thy  lips 
Thou  in  thy  dreams  dost  see, 
Lo,  I  myself  then  of  thy  dream 
The  interpreter  will  be! 
228 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 
TO  OPHRAH 

Ophrah  shall  wash  her  garments  white 

In  rivers  of  my  tears, 
And  dry  them  in  the  radiance  bright 

That  shines  when  she  appears. 
Thus  will  she  seek  no  sun  nor  water  nigh, 
Her  beauty  and  mine  eyes  will  all  her  needs  supply. 

These  lovers'  tears  often  meet  us  in  the  Hebrew 
poems.  Ibn  Gabirol  speaks  of  his  tears  as  ferti 
lizing  his  heart  and  preserving  it  from  crumbling 
into  dust.  Mostly,  however,  the  Hebrew  lover's 
tears,  when  they  are  not  tokens  of  grief  at  the  ab 
sence  of  the  beloved,  are  the  involuntary  confes 
sion  of  the  man's  love.  It  is  the  men  who  must 
weep  in  these  poems.  Charizi  sings  of  the  lover 
whose  heart  succeeds  in  concealing  its  love,  whose 
lips  contrive  to  maintain  silence  on  the  subject,  but 
his  tears  play  traitor  and  betray  his  affection  to  all 
the  world.  Dr.  Sulzbach  aptly  quotes  parallels  to 
this  fancy  from  Goethe  and  Brentano. 

This  suggestion  of  parallelism  between  a  medi 
eval  Hebrew  poet  and  Goethe  must  be  my  excuse 
for  an  excursion  into  what  seems  to  me  one  of  the 
most  interesting  examples  of  the  kind.  In  one  of 
his  poems  Jehudah  Halevi  has  these  lines : 


229 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

SEPARATION 
So  we  must  be  divided!     Sweetest,  stay! 

Once  more  mine  eyes  would  seek  thy  glance's  light! 
At  night  I  shall  recall  thee ;  thou,  I  pray, 

Be  mindful  of  the  days  of  our  delight! 
Come  to  me  in  my  dreams,  I  ask  of  thee, 
And  even  in  thy  dreams  be  gentle  unto  me ! 

If  thou  shouldst  send  me  greeting  in  the  grave, 
The  cold  breath  of  the  grave  itself  were  sweet; 

Oh,  take  my  life !  my  life,  'tis  all  I  have, 
If  I  should  make  thee  live  I  do  entreat ! 

I  think  that  I  shall  hear,  when  I  am  dead, 

The  rustle  of  thy  gown,  thy  footsteps  overhead. 

It  is  this  last  image  that  has  so  interesting  a 
literary  history  as  to  tempt  me  into  a  digression. 
But  first  a  word  must  be  said  of  the  translation  and 
the  translator.  The  late  Amy  Levy  made  this 
rendering,  not  from  the  Hebrew,  but  from  Geiger's 
German  with  obvious  indebtedness  to  Emma 
Lazarus.  So  excellent,  however,  was  Geiger's 
German  that  Miss  Levy  got  quite  close  to  the 
meaning  of  the  original,  though  thirty-eight  He 
brew  lines  are  compressed  into  twelve  English. 
Literally  rendered,  the  Hebrew  of  the  last  lines 
runs: 

Would  that,  when  I  am  dead,  to  mine  ears  may  rise 
The  music  of  the  golden  bell  upon  thy  skirts. 
230 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

This  image  of  the  bell  is  purely  Hebraic;  it  is,  of 
course,  derived  from  the  High  Priest's  vest 
ments.  Jehudah  Halevi  often  employs  it  to  express 
melodious  proclamation  of  virtue,  or  the  widely- 
borne  voice  of  fame.  Here  he  uses  it  in  another 
context,  and  though  the  image  of  the  bell  is  not 
repeated,  yet  some  famous  lines  from  Tenny 
son's  "  Maud"  at  once  come  into  one's  mind: 

She  is  coming,  my  own,  my  sweet; 

Were  it  ever  so  light  a  tread, 
My  heart  would  hear  her  and  beat, 

Were  it  earth  in  an  earthy  bed; 
My  dust  would  hear  her  and  beat, 

Had  I  lain  for  a  century  dead ; 
Would  start  and  tremble  under  her  feet, 

And  blossom  in  purple  and  red. 

It  is  thus  that  the  lyric  poetry  of  one  age  affects, 
or  finds  its  echo  in,  that  of  another,  but  in  this  par 
ticular  case  it  is,  of  course,  a  natural  thought  that 
true  love  must  survive  the  grave.  There  is  a  mys 
tical  union  between  the  two  souls,  which  death  can 
not  end.  Here,  again,  we  meet  the  close  connec 
tion  between  love  and  mysticism,  which  lies  at  the 
root  of  all  deep  love  poetry.  But  we  must  attend 
to  the  literary  history  of  the  thought  for  a  moment 
longer.  Moses  ibn  Ezra,  though  more  famous 

231 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

for  his  Synagogue  hymns,  had  some  lyric  gifts  of  a 
lighter  touch,  and  he  wrote  love  songs  on  occasion. 
In  one  of  these  the  poet  represents  a  dying  wife 
as  turning  to  her  husband  with  the  pathetic  prayer, 
"  Remember  the  covenant  of  our  youth,  and 
knock  at  the  door  of  my  grave  with  a  hand  of 
love." 

I  will  allude  only  to  one  other  parallel,  which 
carries  us  to  a  much  earlier  period.  Here  is  an 
Arab  song  of  Taubah,  son  of  Al-Humaiyir,  who 
lived  in  the  seventh  century.  It  must  be  remem 
bered  that  it  was  an  ancient  Arabic  folk-idea  that 
the  spirits  of  the  dead  became  owls. 

Ah,  if  but  Laila  would  send  me  a  greeting  down 

of  grace,  though  between  us  lay  the  dust  and  flags  of  stone, 

My  greeting  of  joy  should  spring  in  answer,  or  there  should  cry 
toward  her  an  owl,  ill  bird  that  shrieks  in  the  gloom  of  graves. 

C.  J.  L.  Lyall,  writing  of  the  author  of  these 
lines,  Taubah,  informs  us  that  he  was  the  cousin 
of  Laila,  a  woman  of  great  beauty.  Taubah  had 
loved  her  when  they  were  children  in  the  desert  to 
gether,  but  her  father  refused  to  give  her  to  him 
in  marriage.  He  led  a  stormy  life,  and  met  his 
death  in  a  fight  during  the  reign  of  Mu'awiyah. 
Laila  long  survived  him,  but  never  forgot  him  or 

232 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

his  love  for  her.  She  attained  great  fame  as  a 
poetess,  and  died  during  the  reign  of  'Abd-al- 
Malik,  son  of  Marwan,  at  an  advanced  age.  "  A 
tale  is  told  of  her  death  in  which  these  verses  fig 
ure.  She  was  making  a  journey  with  her  husband 
when  they  passed  by  the  grave  of  Taubah.  Laila, 
who  was  travelling  in  a  litter,  cried,  By  God!  I 
will  not  depart  hence  till  I  greet  Taubah.  Her 
husband  endeavored  to  dissuade  her,  but  she  would 
not  hearken;  so  at  last  he  allowed  her.  And  she 
had  her  camel  driven  up  the  mound  on  which  the 
tomb  was,  and  said,  Peace  to  thee,  O  Taubah! 
Then  she  turned  her  face  to  the  people  and  said, 
I  never  knew  him  to  speak  falsely  until  this  day. 
What  meanest  thou?  said  they.  Was  it  not  he, 
she  answered,  who  said 

Ah,  if  but  Laila  would  send  a  greeting  down 

of  grace,  though  between  us  lay  the  dust  and  flags  of  stone, 
My  greeting  of  joy  should  spring  in  answer,  or  there  should  cry 

toward  her  an  owl,  ill  bird  that  shrieks  in  the  gloom  of  graves. 

Nay,  but  I  have  greeted  him,  and  he  has  not  an 
swered  as  he  said.  Now,  there  was  a  she-owl 
crouching  in  the  gloom  by  the  side  of  the  grave; 
and  when  it  saw  the  litter  and  the  crowd  of  people, 
it  was  frightened  and  flew  in  the  face  of  the  camel. 

233 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

And  the  camel  was  startled  and  cast  Laila  head 
long  on  the  ground;  and  she  died  that  hour,  and 
was  buried  by  the  side  of  Taubah." 

The  fascination  of  such  parallels  is  fatal  to  pro 
portion  in  an  essay  such  as  this.  But  I  cannot 
honestly  assert  that  I  needed  the  space  for  other 
aspects  of  my  subject.  I  have  elsewhere  fully  de 
scribed  the  Wedding  Odes  which  Jehudah  Halevi 
provided  so  abundantly,  and  which  were  long  a 
regular  feature  of  every  Jewish  marriage.  But, 
after  the  brilliant  Spanish  period,  Hebrew  love 
songs  lose  their  right  to  high  literary  rank.  Satires 
on  woman's  wiles  replace  praises  of  her  charms. 
On  the  other  hand,  what  of  inspiration  the  Hebrew 
poet  felt  in  the  erotic  field  beckoned  towards  mys 
ticism.  In  the  paper  which  opens  this  volume,  I 
have  written  sufficiently  and  to  spare  of  the  woman- 
haters.  At  Barcelona,  in  the  age  of  Zabara,  Abra 
ham  ibn  Chasdai  did  the  best  he  could  with  his 
misogynist  material,  but  he  could  get  no  nearer  to 
a  compliment  than  this,  "  Her  face  has  the  shim 
mer  of  a  lamp,  but  it  burns  when  held  too  close  " 
("  Prince  and  Dervish,"  ch.  xviii).  The  Hebrew 
attacks  on  women  are  clever,  but  superficial;  they 
show  no  depth  of  insight  into  woman's  character, 
and  are  far  less  effective  than  Pope's  satires. 

234 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

The  boldest  and  ablest  Hebrew  love  poet  of  the 
satirical  school  is  Immanuel  of  Rome,  a  younger 
contemporary  of  Dante.  He  had  wit,  but  not 
enough  of  it  to  excuse  his  ribaldry.  He  tells  many 
a  light  tale  of  his  amours;  a  pretty  face  is  always 
apt  to  attract  him  and  set  his  pen  scribbling.  As 
with  the  English  dramatists  of  the  Restoration, 
virtue  and  beauty  are  to  Immanuel  almost  contra 
dictory  terms.  For  the  most  part,  wrinkled  old 
crones  are  the  only  decent  women  in  his  pages. 
His  pretty  women  have  morals  as  easy  as  the 
author  professes.  In  the  second  of  his  Machbe- 
roth  he  contrasts  two  girls,  Tamar  and  Beriah;  on 
the  one  he  showers  every  epithet  of  honor,  at  the 
other  he  hurls  every  epithet  of  abuse,  only  be 
cause  Tamar  is  pretty,  and  Beriah  the  reverse. 
Tamar  excites  the  love  of  the  angels,  Beriah's  face 
makes  even  the  devil  fly.  This  disagreeable  pose 
of  Immanuel  was  not  confined  to  his  age;  it  has 
spoilt  some  of  the  best  work  of  W.  S.  Gilbert.  The 
following  is  Dr.  Chotzner's  rendering  of  one  of 
ImmanuePs  lyrics.  He  entitles  it 

PARADISE  AND  HELL 
At  times  in  my  spirit  I  fitfully  ponder, 

Where  shall  I  pass  after  death  from  this  light; 
Do  Heaven's  bright  glories  await  me,  I  wonder, 
Or  Lucifer's  kingdom  of  darkness  and  night? 
235 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

In  the  one,  though  'tis  perhaps  of  ill  reputation, 
A  crowd  of  gay  damsels  will  sit  by  my  side; 

But  in  Heaven  there's  boredom  and  mental  starvation, 
To  hoary  old  men  and  old  crones  I'll  be  tied. 

And  so  I  will  shun  the  abodes  of  the  holy, 
And  fly  from  the  sky,  which  is  dull,  so  I  deem: 

Let  hell  be  my  dwelling;  there  is  no  melancholy, 
Where  love  reigns  for  ever  and  ever  supreme. 

Immanuel,  it  is  only  just  to  point  out,  occasion 
ally  draws  a  worthier  character.  In  his  third 
Machbereth  he  tells  of  a  lovely  girl,  who  is  intelli 
gent,  modest,  chaste,  coy,  and  difficult,  although  a 
queen  in  beauty;  she  is  simple  in  taste,  yet  exqui 
site  in  poetical  feeling  and  musical  gifts.  The 
character  is  the  nearest  one  gets  in  Hebrew  to  the 
best  heroines  of  the  troubadours.  Immanuel  and 
she  exchange  verses,  but  the  path  of  flirtation  runs 
rough.  They  are  parted,  she,  woman-like,  dies, 
and  he,  man-like,  sings  an  elegy.  Even  more  to 
Immanuel's  credit  is  his  praise  of  his  own  wife. 
She  has  every  womanly  grace  of  body  and  soul. 
On  her  he  showers  compliments  from  the  Song  of 
Songs  and  the  Book  of  Proverbs.  If  this  be  the 
true  man  revealed,  then  his  light  verses  of  love 
addressed  to  other  women  must  be,  as  I  have 
hinted,  a  mere  pose.  It  may  be  that  his  wife  read 

236 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

his  verses,  and  that  his  picture  of  her  was  calcu 
lated  to  soothe  her  feelings  when  reading  some 
other  parts  of  his  work.  If  she  did  read  them, 
she  found  only  one  perfect  figure  of  womanliness 
in  her  husband's  poems,  and  that  figure  herself. 
But  on  the  whole  one  is  inclined  to  think  that  Im- 
manuel's  braggartism  as  to  his  many  love  affairs 
is  only  another  aspect  of  the  Renaissance  habit, 
which  is  exemplified  so  completely  in  the  similar 
boasts  of  Benvenuto  Cellini. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  not  surprising  to  find  that 
in  the  Shulchan  Aruch  (Orach  Chayyim,  ch.  317, 
§  1 6),  the  poems  of  Immanuel  are  put  upon  the 
Sabbath  Index.  It  is  declared  unlawful  to  read 
them  on  Saturdays,  and  also  on  week-days,  con 
tinues  the  Code  with  gathering  anger.  Those  who 
copy  them,  still  more  those  who  print  them,  are 
declared  sinners  that  make  others  to  sin.  I  must 
confess  that  I  am  here  on  the  side  of  the  Code. 
Immanuel's  Machberoth  are  scarcely  worthy  of 
the  Hebrew  genius. 

There  has  been,  it  may  be  added,  a  long  strug 
gle  against  Hebrew  love  songs.  Maimonides 
says  ("Guide,"  iii.  7):  "The  gift  of  speech 
which  God  gave  us  to  help  us  learn  and  teach  and 
perfect  ourselves — this  gift  of  speech  must  not  be 

237 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

employed  in  doing  what  is  degrading  and  disgrace 
ful.  We  must  not  imitate  the  songs  and  tales  of 
ignorant  and  lascivious  people.  It  may  be  suitable 
to  them,  but  it  is  not  fit  for  those  who  are  bidden, 
Ye  shall  be  a  holy  nation."  In  1415  Solomon 
Alami  uses  words  on  this  subject  that  will  lead 
me  to  my  last  point.  Alami  says,  "  Avoid  listen 
ing  to  love  songs  which  excite  the  passions.  If 
God  has  graciously  bestowed  on  you  the  gift  of  a 
sweet  voice,  use  it  in  praising  Him.  Do  not  set 
prayers  to  Arabic  tunes,  a  practice  which  has  been 
promoted  to  suit  the  taste  of  effeminate  men." 

But  if  this  be  a  crime,  then  the  worst  offender 
was  none  other  than  the  famous  Israel  Najara.  In 
the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  he  added  some 
of  its  choicest  lyrics  to  the  Hebrew  song-book. 
The  most  popular  of  the  table  hymns  (Zemiroth) 
are  his.  He  was  a  mystic,  filled  with  a  sense  of  the 
nearness  of  God.  But  he  did  not  see  why  the  devil 
should  have  all  the  pretty  tunes.  So  he  delib 
erately  wrote  religious  poems  in  metres  to  suit 
Arabic,  Turkish,  Greek,  Spanish,  and  Italian 
melodies,  his  avowed  purpose  being  to  divert  the 
young  Jews  of  his  day  from  profane  to  sacred 
song.  But  these  young  Jews  must  have  been  exi 
gent,  indeed,  if  they  failed  to  find  in  Najara's  sa- 

238 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

cred  verses  enough  of  love  and  passion.  Not  only 
was  he,  like  Jehudah  Halevi,  a  prolific  writer  of 
Wedding  Odes,  but  in  his  most  spiritual  hymns  he 
uses  the  language  of  love  as  no  Hebrew  poet  be 
fore  or  after  him  has  done.  Starting  with  the 
assumption  that  the  Song  of  Songs  was  an  alle 
gory  of  God's  espousal  with  the  bride  Israel,  Na- 
jara  did  not  hesitate  to  put  the  most  passionate 
words  of  love  for  Israel  into  God's  mouth.  He 
was  strongly  attacked,  but  the  saintly  mystic  Isaac 
Luria  retorted  that  Najara's  hymns  were  listened 
to  with  delight  in  Heaven — and  if  ever  a  man  had 
the  right  to  speak  of  Heaven  it  was  Luria.  And 
Hebrew  poetry  has  no  need  to  be  ashamed  of  the 
passionate  affection  poured  out  by  these  mystic 
poets  on  another  beloved,  the  Queen  Sabbath. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  speak  of  the  Hebrew 
drama  and  of  the  form  which  the  love  interest 
takes  in  it.  Woman,  at  all  events,  is  treated  far 
more  handsomely  in  the  dramas  than  in  the  satires. 
The  love  scenes  of  the  Hebrew  dramatists  are 
pure  to  coldness.  These  dramas  began  to  flourish 
in  the  eighteenth  century;  Luzzatto  was  by  no 
means  an  unworthy  imitator  of  Guarini.  Some 
times  the  syncretism  of  ideas  in  Hebrew  plays  is 
sufficiently  grotesque.  Samuel  Romanelli,  who 

239 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

wrote  in  Italy  at  the  era  of  the  French  Revolution, 
boldly  introduces  Greek  mythology.  It  may  be 
that  in  the  Spanish  period  Hebrew  poets  intro 
duced  the  muses  under  the  epithet  "  daughters  of 
Song."  But  with  Romanelli,  the  classical  ma 
chinery  is  more  clearly  audible.  The  scene  of  his 
drama  is  laid  in  Cyprus;  Venus  and  Cupid  figure 
in  the  action.  Romanelli  gives  a  moral  turn  to  his 
mythology,  by  interposing  Peace  to  stay  the  con 
flict  between  Love  and  Fame.  Ephraim  Luzzatto, 
at  the  same  period,  tried  his  hand,  not  unsuccess 
fully,  at  Hebrew  love  sonnets. 

Love  songs  continued  to  be  written  in  Hebrew 
in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  often  see  the  light  in 
the  twentieth.  But  I  do  not  propose  to  deal  with 
these.  Recent  new-Hebrew  poetry  has  shown  it 
self  strongest  in  satire  and  elegy.  Its  note  is  one 
of  anger  or  of  pain.  Shall  we,  however,  say  of 
the  Hebrew  race  that  it  has  lost  the  power  to  sing 
of  love  ?  Has  it  grown  too  old,  too  decrepid  ? 

And  said  I  that  my  limbs  were  old, 
And  said  I  that  my  blood  was  cold, 
And  that  my  kindly  fire  was  fled, 
And  my  poor  wither'd  heart  was  dead, 
And  that  I  might  not  sing  of  love? 

Heine  is  the  answer.     But  Heine  did  not  write 
240 


HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

in  Hebrew,  and  those  who  have  so  far  written  in 
Hebrew  are  not  Heines.  It  is,  I  think,  vain  to 
look  to  Europe  for  a  new  outburst  of  Hebrew  love 
lyrics.  In  the  East,  and  most  of  all  in  Palestine, 
where  Hebrew  is  coming  to  its  own  again,  and 
where  the  spring  once  more  smiles  on  the  eyes  of 
Jewish  peasants  and  shepherds,  there  may  arise 
another  inspired  singer  to  give  us  a  new  Song  of 
Songs  in  the  language  of  the  Bible.  But  we  have 
no  right  to  expect  it.  Such  a  rare  thing  of  beauty 
cannot  be  repeated.  It  is  a  joy  forever,  and  a  joy 
once  for  all. 

[Notes,  pp.  308-310] 


16  241 


A  HANDFUL  OF  CURIOSITIES 
I 

GEORGE  ELIOT  AND  SOLOMON  MAIMON 

That  George  Eliot  was  well  acquainted  with  cer 
tain  aspects  of  Jewish  history,  is  fairly  clear  from 
her  writings.  But  there  is  collateral  evidence  of 
an  interesting  kind  that  proves  the  same  fact  quite 
conclusively,  I  think. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Daniel  Deronda 
went  into  a  second-hand  book-shop  and  bought  a 
small  volume  for  half  a  crown,  thereby  making  the 
acquaintance  of  Ezra  Cohen.  Some  time  back  I 
had  in  my  hands  the  identical  book  that  George 
Eliot  purchased  which  formed  the  basis  of  the 
incident.  The  book  may  now  be  seen  in  Dr.  Wil- 
liams's  Library,  Gordon  Square,  London.  The  few 
words  in  which  George  Eliot  dismisses  the  book  in 
her  novel  would  hardly  lead  one  to  gather  how 
carefully  and  conscientiously  she  had  read  the 
volume,  which  has  since  been  translated  into  Eng 
lish  by  Dr.  J.  Clark  Murray.  She,  of  course, 
bought  and  read  the  original  German. 

242 


GEORGE  ELIOT  AND  SOLOMON  MAIMON 

The  book  is  Solomon  Maimon's  Autobiography, 
a  fascinating  piece  of  self-revelation  and  of  his 
tory.  (An  admirable  account  of  it  may  be  found 
in  chapter  x  of  the  fifth  volume  of  the  English 
translation  of  Graetz's  "  History  of  the  Jews.") 
Maimon,  cynic  and  skeptic,  was  a  man  all  head 
and  no  heart,  but  he  was  not  without  "  character," 
in  one  sense  of  the  word.  He  forms  a  necessary 
link  in  the  progress  of  modern  Jews  towards  their 
newer  culture.  Schiller  and  Goethe  admired  him 
considerably,  and,  as  we  shall  soon  see,  George 
Eliot  was  a  careful  student  of  his  celebrated  pages. 
Any  reader  who  takes  the  book  up,  will  hardly  lay 
it  down  until  he  has  finished  the  first  part,  at  least. 

Several  marginal  and  other  notes  in  the  copy  of 
the  Autobiography  that  belonged  to  George  Eliot 
are,  I  am  convinced,  in  her  own  handwriting,  and 
I  propose  to  print  here  some  of  her  jottings,  all  of 
which  are  in  pencil,  but  carefully  written.  Above 
the  Introduction,  she  writes :  "  This  book  might 
mislead  many  readers  not  acquainted  with  other 
parts  of  Jewish  history.  But  for  a  worthy  account 
(in  brief)  of  Judaism  and  Rabbinism,  see  p.  150." 
This  reference  takes  one  to  the  fifteenth  chapter  of 
the  Autobiography.  Indeed,  George  Eliot  was 
right  as  to  the  misleading  tendency  of  a  good  deal 

243 


GEORGE  ELIOT  AND  SOLOMON  MAIMON 

in  Maimon's  "  wonderful  piece  of  autobiography," 
as  she  terms  the  work  in  "  Daniel  Deronda."  She 
returns  to  the  attack  on  p.  36  of  her  copy,  where 
she  has  jotted,  "  See  infra,  p.  150  et  seq.  for  a  bet 
ter-informed  view  of  Talmudic  study." 

How  carefully  George  Eliot  read !  The  pagina 
tion  of  207  is  printed  wrongly  as  160;  she  corrects 
it!  She  corrects  Kimesi  into  "  Kimchi  "  on  p.  48, 
Rabasse  into  "  R.  Ashe  "  on  p.  163.  On  p.  59 
she  writes,  "  According  to  the  Talmud  no  one  is 
eternally  damned."  Perhaps  her  statement  needs 
some  slight  qualification.  Again  (p.  62),  "  Rashi, 
i.  e.  Rabbi  Shelomoh  ben  Isaak,  whom  Buxtorf 
mistakenly  called  Jarchi."  It  was  really  to  Ray- 
mund  Martini  that  this  error  goes  back.  But 
George  Eliot  could  not  know  it.  On  p.  140,  Mai- 
mon  begins,  "  Accordingly,  I  sought  to  explain  all 
this  in  the  following  way,"  to  which  George  Eliot 
appends  the  note,  "  But  this  is  simply  what  the 
Cabbala  teaches — not  his  own  ingenious  explana 
tion." 

It  is  interesting  to  find  George  Eliot  occasionally 
defending  Judaism  against  Maimon.  On  p.  165 
he  talks  of  the  u  abuse  of  Rabbinism,"  in  that  the 
Rabbis  tacked  on  new  laws  to  old  texts.  u  Its  ori 
gin,"  says  George  Eliot's  pencilled  jotting,  "  was 

244 


GEORGE  ELIOT  AND  SOLOMON  MAIMON 

the  need  for  freedom  to  modify  laws  " — a  fine 
remark.  On  p.  173,  where  Maimon  again  talks 
of  the  Rabbinical  method  of  evolving  all  sorts  of 
moral  truths  by  the  oddest  exegesis,  she  writes, 
"  The  method  has  been  constantly  pursued  in  va 
rious  forms  by  Christian  Teachers."  On  p.  186 
Maimon  makes  merry  at  the  annulment  of  vows 
previous  to  the  Day  of  Atonement.  George  Eliot 
writes,.  "  These  are  religious  vows — not  engage 
ments  between  man  and  man." 

Furthermore,  she  makes  some  translations  of 
the  titles  of  Hebrew  books  cited,  and  enters  a  cor 
rection  of  an  apparently  erroneous  statement  of 
fact  on  p.  215.  There  Maimon  writes  as  though 
the  Zohar  had  been  promulgated  after  Sabbatai 
Zebi.  George  Eliot  notes:  "  Sabbatai  Zebi  lived 
long  after  the  production  of  the  Zohar.  He  was 
a  contemporary  of  Spinoza.  Moses  de  Leon  be 
longed  to  the  fourteenth  century."  This  remark 
shows  that  George  Eliot  knew  Graetz's  History, 
for  it  is  he  who  brought  the  names  of  Spinoza  and 
Sabbatai  Zebi  together  in  two  chapter  headings  in 
his  work.  Besides,  Graetz's  History  was  certainly 
in  George  Eliot's  library;  it  was  among  the  Lewes 
books  now  at  Dr.  Williams's.  Again,  on  p.  265, 
Maimon  speaks  of  the  Jewish  fast  that  falls  in 

245 


GEORGE  ELIOT  AND  SOLOMON  MAIMON 

August.    George  Eliot  jots  on  the  margin,  "  July? 
Fast  of  Ninth  Ab." 

Throughout  passages  are  pencilled,  and  at  the 
end  she  gives  an  index  to  the  parts  that  seem  to 
have  interested  her  particularly.  This  is  her  list: 

Talmudic  quotations,  36. 

Polish  Doctor,  49. 

The  Talmudist,  60. 

Prince  R.  and  the  Barber,  no. 

Talmudic  Method,  174. 

Polish  Jews  chiefly  Gelehrte,  211. 

Zohar,  215. 

Rabbinical  Morality,  176. 

New  Chasidim,  207. 

Elias  aus  Wilna,  242. 

Angels   (  ?),  82. 

Tamuz,  II.,  135. 

It  is  a  pleasure,  indeed,  to  find  a  fresh  confirma 
tion,  that  George  Eliot's  favorable  impression  of 
Judaism  was  based  on  a  very  adequate  acquain 
tance  with  its  history.  Sir  Walter  Scott's  knowl 
edge  of  it  was,  one  cannot  but  feel,  far  less  inti 
mate  than  George  Eliot's,  but  his  poetic  insight 
kept  him  marvellously  straight  in  his  appreciation 
of  Jewish  life  and  character. 

[Notes,  pp.  310-311] 


246 


II 

How  MILTON  PRONOUNCED  HEBREW 

English  politics  in  the  seventeenth  and  eigh 
teenth  centuries  maintained  a  closer  association 
with  literature  than  is  conceivable  in  the  present 
age.  England  has  just  witnessed  a  contest  on 
fundamental  issues  between  the  two  Houses  of 
Parliament.  This  recalls,  by  contrast  rather  than 
by  similarity,  another  conflict  that  divided  the 
Lords  from  the  Commons  in  and  about  the  year 
1645.  The  question  at  issue  then  was  the  respec 
tive  literary  merits  of  two  metrical  translations 
of  the  Psalms. 

Francis  Rous  was  a  Provost  of  Eton,  a  member 
of  the  Westminster  Assembly  of  Divines,  and  rep 
resentative  of  Truro  in  the  Long  Parliament. 
This  "  old  illiterate  Jew,"  as  Wood  abusively 
termed  him,  had  made  a  verse  translation  of  the 
Psalms,  which  the  House  of  Commons  cordially 
recommended.  The  House  of  Lords,  on  the  other 
hand,  preferred  Barton's  translation,  and  many 
other  contemporaneous  attempts  were  made  to 

247 


HOW  MILTON  PRONOUNCED  HEBREW 

meet  the  growing  demand  for  a  good  metrical 
rendering — a  demand  which,  by  the  way,  has  re 
mained  but  imperfectly  filled  to  the  present  time. 
Would  that  some  Jewish  poet  might  arise  to  give 
us  the  long-desired  version  for  use,  at  all  events,  in 
our  private  devotions!  In  April,  1648,  Milton 
tried  his  hand  at  a  rendering  of  nine  Psalms  (Ixxx.- 
Ixxxviii.),  and  it  is  from  this  work  that  we  can  see 
how  Milton  pronounced  Hebrew.  Strange  to  say, 
Milton's  attempt,  except  in  the  case  of  the  eighty- 
fourth  Psalm,  has  scanty  poetical  merit,  and,  as  a 
literal  translation,  it  is  not  altogether  successful. 
He  prides  himself  on  the  fact  that  his  verses  are 
such  that  "  all,  but  what  is  in  a  different  character, 
are  the  very  words  of  the  Text,  translated  from 
the  original."  The  inserted  words  in  italics  are, 
nevertheless,  almost  as  numerous  as  the  roman 
type  that  represents  the  original  Hebrew.  Such 
conventional  mistakes  as  Rous's  cherubims  are, 
however,  conspicuously  absent  from  Milton's 
more  scholarly  work.  Milton  writes  cherubs. 

Now,  in  the  margin  of  Psalms  Ixxx.,  Ixxxi., 
Ixxxii.,  and  Ixxxiii.,  Milton  inserts  a  transliteration 
of  some  of  the  words  of  the  original  Hebrew  text. 
The  first  point  that  strikes  one  is  the  extraordinary 
accuracy  of  the  transliteration.  One  word  appears 

248 


HOW  MILTON  PRONOUNCED  HEBREW 

as  Jimmotu,  thus  showing  that  Milton  appreciated 
the  force  of  the  dagesh.  Again,  Shiphtu-dal}  bag- 
nadath-el  show  that  Milton  observed  the  presence 
of  the  Makkef.  Actual  mistakes  are  very  rare, 
and,  as  Dr.  Davidson  has  suggested,  they  may  be 
due  to  misprints.  This  certainly  accounts  for 
Tishphetu  instead  of  Tishpetu  (Ixxxii.  2),  but 
when  we  find  Be  Sether  appearing  as  two  words 
instead  of  one,  the  capital  S  is  rather  against  this 
explanation,  while  Shifta  (in  the  last  verse  of 
Psalm  Ixxxii.)  looks  like  a  misreading. 

It  is  curious  to  see  that  Milton  adopted  the  nasal 
intonation  of  the  Ayln.  And  he  adopted  it  in  the 
least  defensible  form.  He  invariably  writes  gn 
for  the  Hebrew  Ayin.  Now  ng  is  bad  enough,  but 
gn  seems  a  worse  barbarism.  Milton  read  the 
vowels,  as  might  have  been  expected  from  one  liv 
ing  after  Reuchlin,  who  introduced  the  Italian  pro 
nunciation  to  Christian  students  in  Europe,  in  the 
"  Portuguese  "  manner,  even  to  the  point  of  mak 
ing  little,  if  any,  distinction  between  the  Zere  and 
the  Sheva.  As  to  the  consonants,  he  read  Tav  as 
thy  Teth  as  t,  Qof  as  k,  and  Fav  and  Beth  equally 
as  v.  In  this  latter  point  he  followed  the  u  Ger 
man  "  usage.  The  letter  Cheth  Milton  read  as 
ch,  but  Kaf  he  read  as  ct  sounded  hard  proba- 

249 


HOW  MILTON  PRONOUNCED  HEBREW 

bly,  as  so  many  English  readers  of  Hebrew  do  at 
the  present  day.  I  have  even  noted  among  Jewish 
boys  an  amusing  affectation  of  inability  to  pro 
nounce  the  Kaf  in  any  other  way.  The  some 
what  inaccurate  but  unavoidable  ts  for  Zadde  was 
already  established  in  Milton's  time,  while  the 
letter  Yod  appears  regularly  as  ;',  which  Milton 
must  have  sounded  as  y.  On  the  whole,  it  is  quite 
clear  that  Milton  read  his  Hebrew  with  minute 
precision.  To  see  how  just  this  verdict  is,  let  any 
one  compare  Milton's  exactness  with  the  erratic 
and  slovenly  transliterations  in  Edmund  Chid- 
mead's  English  edition  of  Leon  Modena's  Rlti 
Ebraici,  which  was  published  only  two  years  later 
than  Milton's  paraphrase  of  the  Psalms. 

The  result,  then,  of  an  examination  of  the 
twenty-six  words  thus  transliterated,  is  to  deepen 
the  conviction  that  the  great  Puritan  poet,  who  de 
rived  so  much  inspiration  from  the  Old  Testament, 
drew  at  least  some  of  it  from  the  pure  well  of 
Hebrew  undefiled. 

[Notes,  p.  311] 


250 


Ill 

THE  CAMBRIDGE  PLATONISTS 

As  a  "Concluding  Part"  to  uThe  Myths  of 
Plato,"  Professor  J.  A.  Stewart  wrote  a  chapter 
on  the  Cambridge  Platonists  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  his  object  being  to  show  that  the  thought 
of  Plato  "  has  been,  and  still  is,  an  important  in 
fluence  in  modern  philosophy." 

It  was  a  not  unnatural  reaction  that  diverted 
the  scholars  of  the  Renaissance  from  Aristotle  to 
Plato.  The  medieval  Church  had  been  Aristote 
lian,  and  "  antagonism  to  the  Roman  Church  had, 
doubtless,  much  to  do  with  the  Platonic  revival, 
which  spread  from  Italy  to  Cambridge."  But, 
curiously  enough,  the  Plato  whom  Cambridge 
served  was  not  Plato  the  Athenian  dialectician,  but 
Plato  the  poet  and  allegorist.  It  was,  in  fact, 
Philo,  the  Jew,  rather  than  Plato,  the  Greek,  that 
inspired  them. 

"  Philo  never  thought  of  doubting  that  Plato- 
nism  and  the  Jewish  Scriptures  had  real  affinity  to 
each  other,  and  hardly  perhaps  asked  himself  how 

251 


THE  CAMBRIDGE  PLATONISTS 

the  affinity  was  to  be  accounted  for."  Philo,  how 
ever,  would  have  had  no  difficulty  in  accounting 
for  it;  already  in  his  day  the  quaint  theory  was 
prevalent  that  Athens  had  borrowed  its  wisdom 
from  Jerusalem.  The  Cambridge  Platonists  went 
with  Philo  in  declaring  Plato  to  be  "  the  Attic 
Moses."  Henry  More  (1662)  maintained 
strongly  Plato's  indebtedness  to  Moses;  even 
Pythagoras  was  so  indebted,  or,  rather,  "  it  was  a 
common  fame  [report]  that  Pythagoras  was  a 
disciple  of  the  Prophet  Ezekiel."  The  Cambridge 
Platonists  were  anxious,  not  only  to  show  this  de 
pendence  of  Greek  upon  Hebraic  thought,  but  they 
went  on  to  argue  that  Moses  taught,  in  allegory, 
the  natural  philosophy  of  Descartes.  More  calls 
Platonism  the  soul,  and  Cartesianism  the  body,  of 
his  own  philosophy,  which  he  applies  to  the  expla 
nation  of  the  Law  of  Moses.  "  This  philosophy 
is  the  old  Jewish-Pythagorean  Cabbala,  which 
teaches  the  motion  of  the  Earth  and  Pre-existence 
of  the  Soul."  But  it  is  awkward  that  Moses  does 
not  teach  the  motion  of  the  earth.  More  is  at  no 
loss;  he  boldly  argues  that,  though  "the  motion 
of  the  earth  has  been  lost  and  appears  not  in  the 
remains  of  the  Jewish  Cabbala,  this  can  be  no 
argument  against  its  once  having  been  a  part 


THE  CAMBRIDGE  PLATONISTS 

thereof."  He  holds  it  as  u  exceedingly  probable  " 
that  the  Roman  Emperor  "  Numa  was  both  de 
scended  from  the  Jews  and  imbued  with  the  Jew 
ish  religion  and  learning.'* 

Thus  the  Cambridge  Platonists  of  the  seven 
teenth  century  are  a  very  remarkable  example  of 
the  recurrent  influence  exercised  on  non-Jews  by 
certain  forms  of  Judaism  that  had  but  slight  direct 
effect  on  the  Jews  themselves.  Indirectly,  the 
Hellenic  side  of  Jewish  culture  left  its  mark,  es 
pecially  in  the  Cabbala.  It  would  be  well  worth 
the  while  of  a  Jewish  theologian  to  make  a  close 
study  of  the  seventeenth  century  alumni  of  Cam 
bridge,  who  were  among  the  most  fascinating  de 
votees  of  ancient  Jewish  wisdom.  Henry  More 
was  particularly  attractive,  "  the  most  interesting 
and  the  most  unreadable  of  the  whole  band." 
When  he  was  a  young  boy,  his  uncle  had  to 
threaten  a  flogging  to  cure  him  of  precocious  u  for 
wardness  in  philosophizing  concerning  the  mys 
teries  of  necessity  and  freewill."  In  1631  he  en 
tered  Christ's  College,  Cambridge,  "  about  the 
time  when  John  Milton  was  leaving  it,"  and  he 
may  almost  be  said  to  have  spent  the  rest  of  his 
life  within  the  walls  of  the  college,  u  except  when 
he  went  to  stay  with  his  *  heroine  pupil,'  Anne, 

253 


THE  CAMBRIDGE  PLATONISTS 

Viscountess  Conway,  at  her  country  seat  of  Rag- 
ley  in  Warwickshire,  where  his  pleasure  was  to 
wander  among  the  woods  and  glades."  He  abso 
lutely  refused  all  preferment,  and  when  "  he  was 
once  persuaded  to  make  a  journey  to  Whitehall,  to 
kiss  His  Majesty's  hands,  but  heard  by  the  way 
that  this  would  be  the  prelude  to  a  bishopric,  he  at 
once  turned  back."  Yet  More  was  no  recluse. 
"  He  had  many  pupils  at  Christ's;  he  loved  music, 
and  used  to  play  on  the  theorbo;  he  enjoyed  a 
game  at  bowls,  and  still  more  a  conversation  with 
intimate  friends,  who  listened  to  him  as  to  an 
oracle;  and  he  was  so  kind  to  the  poor  that  it  was 
said  his  very  chamber-door  was  a  hospital  for  the 
needy."  But  enough  has  been  quoted  from  Over- 
ton's  biography  to  whet  curiosity  about  this  Cam 
bridge  sage  and  saint.  More  well  illustrates  what 
was  said  above  (pp.  114-1 16) — the  man  of  letters 
is  truest  to  his  calling  when  he  has  at  the  same 
time  an  open  ear  to  the  call  of  humanity. 
[Notes,  p.  312] 


254 


IV 

THE  ANGLO-JEWISH  YIDDISH  LITERARY  SOCIETY 

The  founder  and  moving  spirit  of  this  unique 
little  Society  is  Miss  Helena  Frank,  whose  sym 
pathy  with  Yiddish  literature  has  been  shown  in 
several  ways.  Her  article  in  the  Nineteenth  Cen 
tury  ("  The  Land  of  Jargon,"  October,  1904) 
was  as  forcible  as  it  was  dainty.  Her  rendering  of 
the  stories  of  Perez,  too,  is  more  than  a  literary 
feat.  Her  knowledge  of  Yiddish  is  not  merely 
intellectual;  though  not  herself  a  Jewess,  she  evi 
dently  enters  into  the  heart  of  the  people  who  ex 
press  their  lives  and  aspirations  in  Yiddish  terms. 
Young  as  she  is,  Miss  Frank  is,  indeed,  a  remark 
able  linguist;  Hebrew  and  Russian  are  among  her 
accomplishments.  But  it  is  a  wonderful  fact  that 
she  has  set  herself  to  acquire  these  other  languages 
only  to  help  her  to  understand  Yiddish,  which 
latter  she  knows  through  and  through. 

Miss  Frank  not  long  ago  founded  a  Society 
called  by  the  title  that  heads  this  note.  The  So 
ciety  did  not  interest  itself  directly  in  the  preserva- 

255 


THE  ANGLO-JEWISH  YIDDISH  LITERARY  SOCIETY 

tion  of  Yiddish  as  a  spoken  language.  It  was 
rather  the  somewhat  grotesque  fear  that  the  role 
of  Yiddish  as  a  living  language  may  cease  that  ap 
pealed  to  Miss  Frank.  The  idea  was  to  collect  a 
Yiddish  library,  encourage  the  translation  of  Yid 
dish  books  into  English,  and  provide  a  sufficient 
supply  of  Yiddish  books  and  papers  for  the  pa 
tients  in  the  London  and  other  Hospitals  who  are 
unable  to  read  any  other  language.  The  weekly 
Yiddish*  Gaze t ten  (New  York)  was  sent  regu 
larly  to  the  London  Hospital,  where  it  has  been 
very  welcome. 

In  the  Society's  first  report,  which  I  was  per 
mitted  to  see,  Miss  Frank  explained  why  an 
American  Yiddish  paper  was  the  first  choice.  In 
the  first  place,  it  was  a  good  paper,  with  an  estab 
lished  reputation,  and  at  once  conservative  and 
free  from  prejudice.  America  is,  moreover,  "  in 
tensely  interesting  to  the  Polish  Yid.  For  him  it 
is  the  free  country  par  excellence.  Besides,  he  is 
sure  to  have  a  son,  uncle,  or  brother  there — or  to 
be  going  there  himself.  *  Vin  shterben  in  vin 
Amerika  kan  sich  keener  nisht  araus  drehn !  ' 
(*  From  dying  and  from  going  to  America,  there 
is  no  escape!')"  Miss  Frank  has  a  keen  sense  of 
humor.  How  could  she  love  Yiddish  were  it  not 

256 


THE  ANGLO-JEWISH  YIDDISH  LITERARY  SOCIETY 

so?  She  cites  some  of  the  Yiddishe  Gazetten's 
answers  to  correspondents.  This  is  funny:  u  The 
woman  has  the  right  to  take  her  clothes  and  orna 
ments  away  with  her  when  she  leaves  her  husband. 
But  it  is  a  question  if  she  ought  to  leave  him." 
Then  we  have  the  following  from  an  article  by 
Dr.  Goidorof.  He  compares  the  Yiddish  lan 
guage  to  persons  whose  passports  are  not  in 
order — the  one  has  no  grammar,  the  others  have 
no  land. 

And  both  the  Jewish  language  and  the  Jewish  nation  hide 
their  faulty  passports  in  their  wallets,  and  disappear  from  the 
register  of  nations  and  languages — no  land,  no  grammar! 

"A  pretty  conclusion  the  savants  have  come  to!"  (began  the 
Jewish  nation).  "You  are  nothing  but  a  collection  of  words, 
and  I  am  nothing  but  a  collection  of  people,  and  there's  an  end 
to  both  of  us !  " 

"  And  Jargon,  besides,  they  said — to  which  of  us  did  they 
refer?  To  me  or  to  you?"  (asks  the  Jewish  language,  the  word 
jargon  being  unknown  to  it). 

"To  you!  "   (answers  the  Jewish  nation). 

"  No,  to  you!  "  (protests  the  Jewish  language). 

"Well,  then,  to  both  of  us!  "  (allows  the  Jewish  nation).  "It 
seems  we  are  both  a  kind  of  Jargon.  Mercy  on  us,  what  shall 
we  do  without  a  grammar  and  without  a  land  ?  " 

"Unless  the  Zionists  purchase  a  grammar  of  the  Sultan!" 
(romances  the  Jewish  language). 

"Or  at  all  events  a  land!  "  (sighs  the  Jewish  nation). 
17  257 


THE  ANGLO-JEWISH  YIDDISH  LITERARY  SOCIETY 

"You  think  that  the  easier  of  the  two?"  (asks  the  Jewish 
language,  wittily). 

And  at  the  same  moment  they  look  at  one  another  and  laugh 
loudly  and  merrily. 

This  is  genuine  Heinesque  humor. 
[Notes,  p.  312] 


258 


V 

THE  MYSTICS  AND  SAINTS  OF  INDIA 
A  book  by  Professor  J.  C.  Oman,  published  not 
long  ago,  contains  a  clear  and  judicially  sympa 
thetic  account  of  Hinduism.  The  sordid  side  of 
Indian  asceticism  receives  due  attention;  the  ex 
cesses  of  self-mortification,  painful  posturings,  and 
equally  painful  impostures  are  by  no  means 
slurred  over  by  the  writer.  And  yet  the  essential 
origin  of  these  ascetic  practices  is  perceived  by 
Professor  Oman  to  be  a  pure  philosophy  and  a  not 
ignoble  idealism.  And  if  Professor  Oman's  anal 
ysis  be  true,  one  understands  how  it  is  that,  though 
there  have  always  been  Jewish  ascetics,  at  times 
of  considerable  numbers  and  devotion,  yet  asceti 
cism,  as  such,  has  no  recognized  place  in  Judaism. 
Jewish  moralists,  especially,  though  not  exclu 
sively,  those  of  the  mystical  or  Cabbalistic  schools, 
pronounce  powerfully  enough  against  over-indul 
gence  in  all  sensuous  pleasures;  they  inculcate  mod 
eration  and  abstinence,  and,  in  some  cases,  where 
the  pressure  of  desire  is  very  strong,  prescribe 

259 


THE  MYSTICS  AND  SAINTS  OF  INDIA 

painful  austerities,  which  may  be  paralleled  by 
what  Professor  Oman  tells  us  of  the  Sadhus  and 
Yogis  of  India.  But  let  us  first  listen  to  Professor 
Oman's  analysis  (p.  16)  : 

"  Without  any  pretence  of  an  exhaustive  analysis  of  the  vari 
ous  and  complex  motives  which  underlie  religious  asceticism,  I 
may,  before  concluding  this  chapter,  draw  attention  to  what 
seem  to  me  the  more  general  reasons  which  prompt  men  to 
ascetic  practices:  (i)  A  desire,  which  is  intensified  by  all  per 
sonal  or  national  troubles,  to  propitiate  the  Unseen  Powers. 
(2)  A  longing  on  the  part  of  the  intensely  religious  to  follow  in 
the  footsteps  of  their  Master,  almost  invariably  an  ascetic.  (3) 
A  wish  to  work  out  one's  own  future  salvation,  or  emancipation, 
by  conquering  the  evil  inherent  in  human  nature,  i.  e.  the  flesh. 

(4)  A  yearning  to  prepare  oneself  by  purification  of  mind  and 
body  for  entering  into  present  communion  with  the  Divine  Being. 

(5)  Despair  arising  from  disillusionment  and  from  defeat  in  the 
battle  of  life.    And  lastly,  mere  vanity,  stimulated  by  the  admira 
tion  which  the  multitude  bestow  on  the  ascetic." 

With  regard  to  his  second  reason,  we  find  noth 
ing  of  the  kind  in  Judaism  subsequent  to  the  Es- 
senes,  until  we  reach  the  Cabbalistic  heroes  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  third  and  the  fourth  have,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  power  generally  in  Jewish 
conduct.  The  fifth  has  had  its  influence,  but  only 
temporarily  and  temperately.  Ascetic  practices, 
based  on  national  and  religious  calamity,  have,  for 


THE  MYSTICS  AND  SAINTS  OF  INDIA 

the  most  part,  been  prescribed  only  for  certain 
dates  in  the  calendar,  but  it  must  be  confessed  that 
an  excessive  addiction  to  fasting  prevails  among 
many  Jews.  But  it  is  when  we  consider  the  first 
of  Professor  Oman's  reasons  for  ascetic  practices 
that  we  perceive  how  entirely  the  genius  of  Juda 
ism  is  foreign  to  Hindu  and  most  other  forms  of 
asceticism.  To  reach  communion  with  God,  the 
Jew  goes  along  the  road  of  happiness,  not  of  aus 
terity.  He  serves  with  joy,  not  with  sadness.  On 
this  subject  the  reader  may  refer  with  great  profit 
to  the  remarks  made  by  the  Reverend  Morris 
Joseph,  in  "  Judaism  as  Creed  and  Life,"  p.  247, 
onwards,  and  again  the  whole  of  chapter  iv.  of 
book  iii.  (p.  364).  Self-development,  not  self- 
mortification,  is  the  true  principle;  man's  lower 
nature  is  not  to  be  crushed  by  torture,  but  to  be 
elevated  by  moderation,  so  as  to  bear  its  part  with 
man's  higher  nature  in  the  service  of  God. 

What  leads  some  Jewish  moralists  to  eulogize 
asceticism  is  that  there  is  always  a  danger  of  the 
happiness  theory  leading  to  a  materialistic  view  of 
life.  This  is  what  Mr.  Joseph  says,  and  says  well, 
on  the  subject  (p.  371)  : 

"And,    therefore,    though    Judaism    does    not    approve    of    the 
ascetic  temper,  it  is  far  from  encouraging  the  materialist's  view 

261 


THE  MYSTICS  AND  SAINTS  OF  INDIA 

of  life.  It  has  no  place  for  monks  or  hermits,  who  think  they 
can  serve  God  best  by  renouncing  the  world ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  sternly  rebukes  the  worldliness  that  knows  no  ideal  but 
sordid  pleasures,  no  God  but  Self.  It  commends  to  us  the  golden 
mean — the  safe  line  of  conduct  that  lies  midway  between  the 
rejection  of  earthly  joys  and  the  worship  of  them.  If  asceticism 
too  often  spurns  the  commonplace  duties  of  life,  excessive  self- 
indulgence  unfits  us  for  them.  In  each  case  we  lose  some  of 
our  moral  efficiency.  But  in  the  latter  case  there  is  added  an 
inevitable  degradation.  The  man  who  mortifies  his  body  for 
his  soul's  sake  has  at  least  his  motive  to  plead  for  him.  But 
the  sensualist  has  no  such  justification.  He  deliberately  chooses 
the  evil  and  rejects  the  good.  Forfeiting  his  character  as  a  son 
of  God,  he  yields  himself  a  slave  to  unworthy  passions. 

"  It  is  the  same  with  the  worldly  man,  who  lives  only  for 
sordid  ends,  such  as  wealth  and  the  pleasures  it  buys.  He,  too, 
utterly  misses  his  vocation.  His  pursuit  of  riches  may  be  moral 
in  itself;  he  may  be  a  perfectly  honest  man.  But  his  life  is  un 
moral  all  the  same,  for  it  aims  at  nothing  higher  than  itself." 

Thus  Professor  Oman's  fascinating  book  gives 
occasion  for  thought  to  many  whose  religion  is 
far  removed  from  Hinduism.  But  there  is  in 
particular  one  feature  of  Hindu  asceticism  that 
calls  for  attention.  This  is  the  Hindu  doctrine  of 
Karma,  or  good  works,  which  will  be  familiar  to 
readers  of  Rudyard  Kipling's  "  Kim."  Upon  a 
man's  actions  (Karma  is  the  Sanskrit  for  action) 
in  this  life  depends  the  condition  in  which  his  soul 
will  be  reincarnated. 

262 


THE  MYSTICS  AND  SAINTS  OF  INDIA 

"  In  a  word,  the  present  state  is  the  result  of  past  actions,  and 
the  future  depends  upon  the  present.  Now,  the  ultimate  hope  of 
the  Hindu  should  be  so  to  live  that  his  soul  may  be  eventually 
freed  from  the  necessity  of  being  reincarnated,  and  may,  in  the 
end,  be  reunited  to  the  Infinite  Spirit  from  which  it  sprang. 
As,  however,  that  goal  is  very  remote,  the  Hindu  not  uncom 
monly  limits  his  desire  and  his  efforts  to  the  attainment  of  a 
'  good  time '  now,  and  in  his  next  appearance  upon  this  earthly 
stage"  (p.  108). 

We  need  not  go  fully  into  this  doctrine,  which,  as 
the  writer  says  elsewhere  (p.  172),  "certainly 
makes  for  morality,"  but  we  may  rather  attend  to 
that  aspect  of  it  which  is  shown  in  the  Hindu  de 
sire  to  accumulate  "  merits."  The  performance 
of  penances  gives  the  self-torturer  certain  spiritual 
powers.  Professor  Oman  quotes  this  passage  from 
Sir  Monier  Williams's  "  Indian  Epic  Poetry " 
(note  to  p.  4)  : 

"  According  to  Hindu  theory,  the  performance  of  penances  was 
like  making  deposits  in  the  bank  of  Heaven.  By  degrees  an  enor 
mous  credit  was  accumulated,  which  enabled  the  depositor  to 
draw  on  the  amount  of  his  savings,  without  fear  of  his  drafts 
being  refused  payment.  The  power  gained  in  this  way  by  weak 
mortals  was  so  enormous  that  gods,  as  well  as  men,  were  equally 
at  the  mercy  of  these  all  but  omnipotent  ascetics,  and  it  is  re 
markable  that  even  the  gods  are  described  as  engaging  in  pen 
ances  and  austerities,  in  order,  it  may  be  presumed,  not  to  be 
undone  by  human  beings." 

263 


THE  MYSTICS  AND  SAINTS  OF  INDIA 

Now,  if  for  penance  we  substitute  Mitzvoth, 
we  find  in  this  passage  almost  the  caricature  of  the 
Jewish  theory  that  meets  us  in  the  writings  of  Ger 
man  theologians.  These  ill-equipped  critics  of 
Judaism  put  it  forward  seriously  that  the  Jew  per 
forms  Mitzvoth  in  order  to  accumulate  merit 
(Zechuth) ,  and  some  of  them  even  go  so  far  as  to 
assert  that  the  Jew  thinks  of  his  Zechuth  as  irre 
sistible.  But  when  the  matter  is  put  frankly  and 
squarely,  as  Professor  Monier  Williams  puts  it, 
not  even  the  Germans  could  have  the  effrontery  to 
assert  that  Judaism  teaches  or  tolerates  any  such 
doctrine.  Whatever  man  does,  he  has  no  merit 
towards  God:  that  is  Jewish  teaching.  Yet  con 
duct  counts,  and  somehow  the  good  man  and  the 
bad  man  are  not  in  the  same  case.  Judaism  may 
be  inconsistent,  but  it  is  certainly  not  base  in  its 
teaching  as  to  conduct  and  retribution.  "  Be  not 
as  servants  who  minister  in  the  hope  of  receiving 
reward  " — this  is  not  the  highest  level  of  Jewish 
doctrine,  it  is  the  average  level.  Lately  I  have 
been  reading  a  good  deal  of  mystical  Jewish  litera 
ture,  and  I  have  been  struck  by  the  repeated  use 
made  of  the  famous  Rabbinical  saying  of  Antigo- 
nos  of  Socho  just  cited.  One  wonders  whether, 
after  all,  justice  is  done  to  the  Hindus.  One  sees 

264 


THE  MYSTICS  AND  SAINTS  OF  INDIA 

how  easily  Jewish  teaching  can  be  distorted  into  a 
doctrine  of  calculated  Zechuth.  Are  the  Hindus 
being  misjudged  equally?  Certainly,  in  some  cases 
this  must  be  so,  for  Professor  Oman,  with  his  re 
markably  sympathetic  insight,  records  experiences 
such  as  this  more  than  once  (p.  147).  He  is  de 
scribing  one  of  the  Jain  ascetics,  and  remarks : 

"  His  personal  appearance  gave  the  impression  of  great  suffer 
ing,  and  his  attendants  all  had  the  same  appearance,  contrasting 
very  much  indeed  with  the  ordinary  Sadhus  of  other  sects.  And 
wherefore  this  austere  rejection  of  the  world's  goods,  wherefore 
all  this  self-inflicted  misery?  Is  it  to  attain  a  glorious  Heaven 
hereafter,  a  blessed  existence  after  death?  No!  It  is,  as  the  old 
monk  explained  to  me,  only  to  escape  rebirth — for  the  Jain 
believes  in  the  transmigration  of  souls — and  to  attain  rest." 

Other  ascetics  gave  similar  explanations.     Thus 
(p.  100)  : 

"The  Christian  missionary  entered  into  conversation  with  the 
Hermit  (a  Bairagi  from  the  Upper  Provinces),  and  learned  from 
him  that  he  had  adopted  a  life  of  abstraction  and  isolation  from 
the  world,  neither  to  expiate  any  sin,  nor  to  secure  any  reward. 
He  averred  that  he  had  no  desires  and  no  hopes,  but  that,  being 
removed  from  the  agitations  of  the  worldly  life,  he  was  full  of 
tranquil  joy." 

[Notes,  pp.  312-313] 


265 


VI 

LOST  PURIM  JOYS 

It  is  scarcely  accurate  to  assert,  as  is  sometimes 
done,  that  the  most  characteristic  of  the  Purim 
pranks  of  the  past  were  children  of  the  Ghetto, 
and  came  to  a  natural  end  when  the  Ghetto  walls 
fell.  In  point  of  fact,  most  of  these  joys  origi 
nated  before  the  era  of  the  Ghetto,  and  others  were 
introduced  for  the  first  time  when  Ghetto  life  was 
about  to  fade  away  into  history. 

Probably  the  oldest  of  Purim  pranks  was  the 
bonfire  and  the  burning  of  an  effigy.  Now,  so  far 
from  being  a  Ghetto  custom,  it  did  not  even  ema 
nate  from  Europe,  the  continent  of  Ghettos;  it 
belongs  to  Babylonia  and  Persia.  This  is  what 
was  done,  according  to  an  old  Geonic  account  re 
covered  by  Professor  L.  Ginzberg: 

"  It  is  customary  in  Babylonia  and  Elam  for  boys  to  make  an 
effigy  resembling  Haman;  this  they  suspend  on  their  roofs,  four 
or  five  days  before  Purim.  On  Purim  day  they  erect  a  bonfire, 
and  cast  the  effigy  into  its  midst,  while  the  boys  stand  round  about 
it,  jesting  and  singing.  And  they  have  a  ring  suspended  in  the 

266 


LOST  PURIM  JOYS 

midst  of  the  fire,  which    (ring)    they  hold  and  wave  from  one 
side  of  the  fire  to  the  other." 

Bonfires,  it  may  be  thought,  need  no  recondite 
explanation;  light  goes  with  a  light  heart,  and 
boys  always  love  a  blaze.  Dr.  J.  G.  Frazer,  in  his 
"  Golden  Bough,"  has  endeavored,  nevertheless, 
to  bring  the  Purim  bonfire  into  relation  with 
primitive  spring-tide  and  midsummer  conflagra 
tions,  which  survived  into  modern  carnivals,  but 
did  not  originate  with  them.  Such  bonfires  be 
longed  to  what  has  been  called  sympathetic  or 
homeopathic  magic;  by  raising  an  artificial  heat, 
you  ensured  a  plentiful  dose  of  the  natural  heat  of 
the  sun.  So,  too,  the  burning  of  an  effigy  wras  not, 
in  the  first  instance,  a  malicious  or  unfriendly  act. 
A  tree-spirit,  or  a  figure  representing  the  spirit  of 
vegetation,  was  consumed  in  fire,  but  the  spirit  was 
regarded  as  beneficent,  not  hostile,  and  by  burning 
a  friendly  deity  the  succor  of  the  sun  was  gained. 
Dr.  Frazer  cites  some  evidence  for  the  early  preva 
lence  of  the  Purim  bonfire;  he  argues  strongly  and 
persuasively  in  favor  of  the  identification  of  Purim 
with  the  Babylonian  feast  of  the  Sacaea,  a  wild, 
extravagant  bacchanalian  revel,  which,  in  the  old 
Asiatic  world,  much  resembled  the  Saturnalia  of  a 
later  Italy.  The  theory  is  plausible,  though  it  is  not 

267 


LOST  PURIM  JOYS 

quite  proven  by  Dr.  Frazer,  but  it  seems  to  me  that 
whatever  be  the  case  with  Purim  generally,  there 
is  one  hitherto  overlooked  feature  of  the  Purim 
bonfire  that  does  clearly  connect  it  with  the  other 
primitive  conflagrations  of  which  mention  was 
made  above. 

This  overlooked  feature  is  the  u  ring."  No  ex 
planation  is  given  by  the  Gaon  as  to  its  purpose  in 
the  tenth  century,  and  it  can  hardly  have  been  used 
to  hold  the  effigy.  Now,  in  many  of  the  primitive 
bonfires,  the  fire  was  produced  by  aid  of  a  revolv 
ing  wheel.  This  wheel  typifies  the  sun.  Waving 
the  "  ring  "  in  the  Purim  bonfires  has  obviously 
the  same  significance,  and  this  apparently  inexpli 
cable  feature  does,  I  think,  serve  to  link  the  ancient 
Purim  prank  with  a  long  series  of  old-world  cus 
toms,  which,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  have  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  the  Ghetto. 

Then,  again,  the  most  famous  of  Purim  paro 
dies  preceded  the  Ghetto  period.  The  official 
Ghetto  begins  with  the  opening  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  whereas  the  best  parodies  belong  to  a 
much  earlier  date,  the  fourteenth  century.  Such 
parodies,  in  which  sacred  things  are  the  subject  of 
harmless  jest,  are  purely  medieval  in  spirit,  as  well 
as  in  date.  Exaggerated  praises  of  wine  were  a 

268 


LOST  PURIM  JOYS 

foil  to  the  sobriety  of  the  Jew,  the  fun  consisting 
in  this  conscious  exaggeration.  The  medieval 
Jew,  be  it  remembered,  drew  no  severe  line  be 
tween  sacred  and  profane.  All  life  was  to  him 
equally  holy,  equally  secular.  So  it  is  not  strange 
that  we  find  included  in  sacred  Hebrew  hymnolo- 
gies  wine-songs  for  Purim  and  Chanukah  and  other 
Synagogue  feasts,  and  these  songs  are  at  least  as 
old  as  the  early  part  of  the  twelfth  century.  For 
Purim,  many  Synagogue  liturgies  contain  serious 
additions  for  each  of  the  eighteen  benedictions  of 
the  Amidah  prayer,  and  equally  serious  para 
phrases  of  Esther,  some  of  them  in  Aramaic, 
abound  among  the  Genizah  fragments  in  Cam 
bridge.  Besides  these,  however,  are  many  harm^ 
lessly  humorous  jingles  and  rhymes  which  were 
sung  in  the  synagogue,  admittedly  for  the  amuse 
ment  of  the  children,  and  for  the  child-hearts  of 
adult  growth.  For  them,  too,  the  Midrash  had 
played  round  Haman,  reviling  him,  poking  fun  at 
him,  covering  him  with  ridicule  rather  than  exe 
cration.  It  is  true  that  the  earliest  ritual  refer 
ence  to  the  wearing  of  masks  on  Purim  dates  from 
the  year  1508,  just  within  the  Ghetto  period. 
But  this  omission  of  earlier  reference  is  surely  an 
accident.  In  the  Babylonian  Sacaea,  cited  above, 

269 


LOST  PURIM  JOYS 

a  feature  of  the  revel  was  that  men  and  women 
disguised  themselves,  a  slave  dressed  up  as  king, 
while  servants  personated  masters,  and  vice  versa. 
All  these  elements  of  carnival  exhilaration  are 
much  earlier  than  the  Middle  Ages.  Ghetto  days, 
however,  originated,  perhaps,  the  stamping  of 
feet,  clapping  of  hands,  clashing  of  mallets,  and 
smashing  of  earthenware  pots,  to  punctuate  cer 
tain  passages  of  the  Esther  story  and  of  the  subse 
quent  benediction. 

My  strongest  point  concerns  what,  beyond  all 
other  delights,  has  been  regarded  as  the  charac 
teristic  amusement  of  the  festival,  viz.  the  Purim 
play.  We  not  only  possess  absolutely  no  evidence 
that  Purim  plays  were  performed  in  the  Ghettos 
till  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  when 
the  end  of  the  Ghettos  was  almost  within  sight, 
but  the  extant  references  imply  that  they  were  then 
a  novelty.  Plays  on  the  subject  of  Esther  were 
very  common  in  medieval  Europe  during  earlier 
centuries,  but  these  plays  were  written  by  Chris 
tians,  not  by  Jews,  and  were  performed  by  monks, 
not  by  Rabbis.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  none 
the  less  the  fact  that  the  Purim  play  belongs  to 
the  most  recent  of  the  Purim  amusements,  and 
that  its  life  has  been  short  and,  on  the  whole,  in 
glorious. 

270 


LOST  PURIM  JOYS 

Thus,  without  pressing  the  contention  too 
closely,  Purim  festivities  do  not  deserve  to  be 
tarred  with  the  Ghetto  brush.  Is  it,  then,  denied 
that  Purim  was  more  mirthfully  observed  in 
Ghetto  days  than  it  is  at  the  present  day?  By  no 
means.  It  is  unquestionable  that  Purim  used  to 
be  a  merrier  anniversary  than  it  is  now.  The  ex 
planation  is  simple.  In  part,  the  change  has  arisen 
through  a  laudable  disinclination  from  pranks  that 
may  be  misconstrued  as  tokens  of  vindictiveness 
against  an  ancient  foe  or  his  modern  reincarna 
tions.  As  a  second  cause  may  be  assigned  the 
growing  and  regrettable  propensity  of  Jews  to 
draw  a  rigid  line  of  separation  between  life  and  ( 
religion,  and  wherever  this  occurs,  religious  feasts 
tend  towards  a  solemnity  that  cannot,  and  dare 
not,  relax  into  amusement.  This  tendency  is  eat 
ing  at  the  very  heart  of  Jewish  life,  and  ought  to 
be  resisted  by  all  who  truly  understand  the  genius 
of  Judaism. 

But  the  psychology  of  the  change  goes  even 
deeper.  The  Jew  is  emotional,  but  he  detests 
making  a  display  of  his  feelings  to  mere  onlookers. 
The  Wailing  Wall  scenes  at  Jerusalem  are  not  a 
real  exception — the  facts  are  "  Cooked,"  to  meet 
the  demands  of  clamant  tourists.  The  Jew's  sensi- 

271 


LOST  PURIM  JOYS 

tiveness  is  the  correlative  of  his  emotionalism. 
While  all  present  are  joining  in  the  game,  each 
Jew  will  play  with  full  abandonment  to  the  humor 
of  the  moment.  But  as  soon  as  some  play  the 
part  of  spectators,  the  Jew  feels  his  limbs  grow 
ing  too  stiff  for  dancing,  his  voice  too  hushed 
for  song.  All  must  participate,  or  all  must  leave 
off.  Thus,  a  crowd  of  Italians  or  Southern  French 
may  play  at  carnival  to-day  to  amuse  sight-seers  in 
the  Riviera,  but  Jews  have  never  consented,  have 
never  been  able,  to  sport  that  others  might  stand 
by  and  laugh  at,  and  not  with,  the  sportsmen.  In 
short,  Purim  has  lost  its  character,  because  Jews 
have  lost  their  character,  their  disposition  for  in 
nocent,  unanimous  joyousness.  We  are  no  longer 
so  closely  united  in  interests  or  in  local  abodes  that 
we  could,  on  the  one  hand,  enjoy  ourselves  as  one 
man,  and,  on  the  other,  play  merry  pranks,  with 
out  incurring  the  criticism  of  indifferent,  cold- 
eyed  observers.  Criticism  has  attacked  the  au 
thenticity  of  the  Esther  story,  and  proposed  Marduk 
for  Mordecai,  and  Istar  for  Esther.  But  criticism 
of  another  kind  has  worked  far  more  havoc,  for  its 
"  superior  "  airs  have  killed  the  Purim  joy.  Per 
haps  it  is  not  quite  dead  after  all. 

[Notes,  pp.  313-314] 

272 


VII 

JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

The  jubilee  of  the  introduction  of  the  Penny 
Post  into  England  was  not  reached  till  1890.  It 
is  difficult  to  realize  the  state  of  affairs  before  this 
reform  became  part  of  our  everyday  life.  That 
less  than  three-quarters  of  a  century  ago  the  scat 
tered  members  of  English  families  were,  in  a  mul 
titude  of  cases,  practically  dead  to  one  another, 
may  incline  one  to  exaggerate  the  insignificance  of 
the  means  of  communication  in  times  yet  more 
remote.  Certainly,  in  ancient  Judea  there  were 
fewer  needs  than  in  the  modern  world.  Necessity 
produces  invention,  and  as  the  Jew  of  remote  times 
rarely  felt  a  strong  necessity  to  correspond  with 
his  brethren  in  his  own  or  other  countries,  it  natu 
rally  followed  that  the  means  of  communication 
were  equally  extempore  in  character.  It  may  be 
of  interest  to  put  together  some  desultory  jottings 
on  this  important  topic. 

The  way  to  Judea  lies  through  Rome.  If  we 
wish  information  whether  the  Jews  knew  any- 
18  273 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

thing  of  a  regular  post,  we  must  first  inquire 
whether  the  Romans  possessed  that  institution. 
According  to  Gibbon,  this  was  the  case.  Excellent 
roads  made  their  appearance  wherever  the  Ro 
mans  settled;  and  "  the  advantage  of  receiving  the 
earliest  intelligence  and  of  conveying  their  orders 
with  celerity,  induced  the  Emperors  to  establish 
throughout  their  extensive  dominions  the  regular 
institution  of  posts.  Houses  were  everywhere 
erected  at  the  distance  only  of  five  or  six  miles; 
each  of  them  was  constantly  provided  with  forty 
horses,  and  by  the  help  of  these  relays  it  was  easy 
to  travel  a  hundred  miles  a  day  along  the  Roman 
roads.  The  use  of  the  posts  was  allowed  to  those 
who  claimed  it  by  an  Imperial  mandate;  but, 
though  originally  intended  for  the  public  service, 
it  was  sometimes  indulged  to  the  business  or  con- 
veniency  of  private  citizens."  This  statement  of 
Gibbon  (towards  the  end  of  chapter  ii)  applies 
chiefly,  then,  to  official  despatches;  for  we  know 
from  other  sources  that  the  Romans  had  no  public 
post  as  we  understand  the  term,  but  used  special 
messengers  (tabellarius)  to  convey  private  letters. 
Exactly  the  same  facts  meet  us  with  reference 
to  the  Jews  in  the  earlier  Talmudic  times.  There 
were  special  Jewish  letter-carriers,  who  carried  the 

274 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

documents  in  a  pocket  made  for  the  purpose,  and 
in  several  towns  in  Palestine  there  was  a  kind  of 
regular  postal  arrangement,  though  many  places 
were  devoid  of  the  institution.  It  is  impossible  to 
suppose  that  these  postal  conveniences  refer  only 
to  official  documents;  for  the  Mishnah  (Sabbath, 
x,  4)  is  evidently  speaking  of  Jewish  postmen, 
who,  at  that  time,  would  hardly  have  been  em 
ployed  to  carry  the  despatches  of  the  government. 
The  Jewish  name  for  this  post  was  Be-Davvar, 
and  apparently  was  a  permanent  and  regular  insti 
tution.  From  a  remark  of  Rabbi  Jehudah  (Rosh 
ha-Shanah,  9b),  "  like  a  postman  who  goes  about 
everywhere  and  carries  merchandise  to  the  whole 
province,"  it  would  seem  that  the  Jews  had  estab 
lished  a  parcels-post;  but  unfortunately  we  have 
no  precise  information  as  to  how  these  posts  were 
managed. 

Gibbon's  account  of  the  Roman  post  recalls  an 
other  Jewish  institution,  which  may  have  been 
somehow  connected  with  the  Be-Davvar.  The  offi 
cial  custodian  of  the  goat  that  was  sent  into  the 
wilderness  on  the  Day  of  Atonement  was  allowed, 
if  he  should  feel  the  necessity — a  necessity  which, 
according  to  tradition,  never  arose — to  partake  of 
food  even  on  the  fast-day.  For  this  purpose  huts 

275 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

were  erected  along  the  route,  and  men  provided 
with  food  were  stationed  at  each  of  these  huts  to 
meet  the  messenger  and  conduct  him  some  dis 
tance  on  his  way. 

That  the  postal  system  cannot  have  been  very 
much  developed,  is  clear  from  the  means  adopted 
to  announce  the  New  Moon  in  various  localities. 
This  official  announcement  certainly  necessitated  a 
complete  system  of  communication.  At  first,  we 
are  told  (Rosh  ha-Shanah,  ii,  2),  fires  were  lighted 
on  the  tops  of  the  mountains;  but  the  Samaritans 
seem  to  have  ignited  the  beacons  at  the  wrong 
time,  so  as  to  deceive  the  Jews.  It  was,  therefore, 
decided  to  communicate  the  news  by  messenger. 
The  mountain-fires  were  prepared  as  follows: 
Long  staves  of  cedar-wood,  canes,  and  branches 
of  the  olive-tree  were  tied  up  with  coarse  threads 
or  flax;  these  were  lighted  as  torches,  and  men 
on  the  hills  waved  the  brands  to  and  fro,  up 
ward  and  downward,  until  the  signal  was  repeated 
on  the  next  hill,  and  so  forth.  When  messen 
gers  were  substituted  for  these  fire  signals,  it  does 
not  appear  that  they  carried  letters;  they  brought 
verbal  messages,  which  they  seem  to  have  shouted 
out  without  necessarily  dismounting  from  the 
Animals  they  rode,  Messages  were  not  sent  every 

870 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

month,  but  only  six  times  a  year;  and  a  curious 
light  is  thrown  on  the  means  of  communica 
tion  of  the  time,  by  the  legal  decision  that  anyone 
was  to  be  believed  on  the  subject,  and  that  the 
word  of  a  passing  merchant  who  said  that  "  he 
had  heard  the  New  Moon  proclaimed,"  was  to  be 
accepted  unhesitatingly.  Nowadays,  busy  men  are 
sometimes  put  out  by  postal  vagaries,  but  they 
hardly  suffer  to  the  extent  of  having  to  fast  two 
days.  This  calamity  is  recorded,  however,  in  the 
Jerusalem  Talmud,  as  having,  on  a  certain  occa 
sion,  resulted  from  the  delay  in  the  arrival  of  the 
messengers  announcing  the  New  Moon. 

Besides  the  proclamation  of  the  New  Moon, 
other  official  documents  must  have  been  despatched 
regularly.  "  Bills  of  divorce,"  for  instance, 
needed  special  messengers;  the  whole  question  of 
the  legal  position  of  messengers  is  very  intimately 
bound  up  with  that  of  conveying  divorces.  This, 
however,  seems  to  have  been  the  function  of  pri 
vate  messengers,  who  were  not  in  the  strict  sense 
letter-carriers  at  all.  It  may  be  well,  in  passing, 
to  recall  one  or  two  other  means  of  communica 
tion  mentioned  in  the  Midrash.  Thus  we  read 
how  Joshua,  with  twelve  thousand  of  his  warriors, 
was  imprisoned,  by  means  of  witchcraft,  within  a 

277 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

sevenfold  barrier  of  iron.  He  resolves  to  write 
for  aid  to  the  chief  of  the  tribe  of  Reuben,  bidding 
him  to  summon  Phineas,  who  is  to  bring  the 
"  trumpets  "  with  him.  Joshua  ties  the  message 
to  the  wings  of  a  dove,  or  pigeon,  and  the  bird 
carries  the  letter  to  the  Israelites,  who  speedily 
arrive  with  Phineas  and  the  trumpets,  and,  after 
routing  the  enemy,  effect  Joshua's  rescue.  A  simi 
lar  idea  may  be  found  in  the  commentary  of  Kim- 
chi  on  Genesis.  Noah,  wishing  for  information, 
»  says  Kimchi,  sent  forth  a  raven,  but  it  brought 
back  no  message ;  then  he  sent  a  dove,  which  has  a 
natural  capacity  for  bringing  back  replies,  when 
it  has  been  on  the  same  way  once  or  twice.  Thus 
kings  train  these  birds  for  the  purpose  of  sending 
them  great  distances,  with  letters  tied  to  their 
wings.  So  we  read  (Sabbath,  49)  in  the  Talmud 
that  "  a  dove's  wings  protect  it,"  i.  e.  people  pre 
serve  it,  and  do  not  slay  it,  because  they  train  it  to 
act  as  their  messenger.  Or,  again,  we  find  arrows 
used  as  a  means  of  carrying  letters,  and  we  are  not 
alluding  to  such  signals  as  Jonathan  gave  to  David. 
During  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Romans,  the 
Emperor  had  men  placed  near  the  walls  of  Jerusa 
lem,  and  they  wrote  the  information  they  obtained 
on  arrows,  and  fired  them  from  the  wall,  with  the 

278 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

connivance,   probably,   of  the  philo-Roman  party 
that  existed  within  the  doomed  city. 

In  earlier  Bible  times,  there  was,  as  the  Tell-el- 
Amarna  bricks  show,  an  extensive  official  corre 
spondence  between  Canaan  and  Egypt,  but  private 
letter-writing  seems  not  to  have  been  resorted  to; 
messages  were  transmitted  orally  to  the  parties 
concerned.  This  fact  is  well  illustrated  by  the 
story  of  Joseph.  He  may,  of  course,  have  delib 
erately  resolved  not  to  communicate  with  his  fam 
ily,  but  if  letter-writing  had  been  usual,  his  broth 
ers  would  naturally  have  asked  him — a  question 
that  did  not  suggest  itself  to  them — why  he  had 
never  written  to  tell  his  father  of  his  fortunes. 
When  Saul  desired  to  summon  Israel,  he  sent,  not 
a  letter,  but  a  mutilated  yoke  of  oxen;  the  earliest 
letter  mentioned  in  the  Bible  being  that  in  which 
King  David  ordered  Uriah  to  be  placed  in  the  fore 
front  of  the  army.  Jezebel  sends  letters  in  Ahab's 
name  to  Naboth,  Jehu  to  Samaria.  In  all  these 
cases  letters  were  used  for  treacherous  purposes, 
and  they  are  all  short.  Probably  the  authors  of 
these  plots  feared  to  betray  their  real  intention 
orally,  and  so  they  committed  their  orders  to  writ 
ing,  expecting  their  correspondents  to  read  be 
tween  the  lines.  It  is  not  till  the  time  of  Isaiah 

279 


JEWS  AND  UETTEKS 

that  the  references  to  writing  become  frequent.  In 
tercourse  between  Palestine  on  the  one  hand  and 
Babylon  and  Egypt  on  the  other  had  then  in 
creased  greatly,  and  the  severance  of  the  nation 
itself  tended  to  make  correspondence  through 
writing  more  necessary.  When  we  reach  the  age 
of  Jeremiah,  this  fact  makes  itself  even  more 
strongly  apparent.  Letters  are  often  mentioned  by 
that  prophet  (xxix.  25,  29),  and  a  professional 
class  of  Soferim,  or  scribes,  make  their  appear 
ance.  Afterwards,  of  course,  the  Sofer  became 
of  much  higher  importance;  he  was  not  merely  a 
professional  writer,  but  a  man  learned  in  the  Law, 
who  spread  the  knowledge  of  it  among  the  people. 
Later,  again,  these  functions  were  separated,  and 
the  Sofer  added  to  his  other  offices  that  of 
teacher  of  the  young.  Nowadays,  he  has  regained 
his  earlier  and  less  important  position,  for  the 
modern  Sofer  is  simply  a  professional  writer. 
In  the  time  of  Ezekiel  (ix.  2)  the  Sofer  went 
abroad  with  the  implements  of  his  trade,  including 
the  inkhorn,  at  his  side.  In  the  Talmud,  the 
scribe  is  sometimes  described  by  his  Latin  title 
libellarius  (Sabbath,  iia).  The  Jews  of  Egypt, 
as  may  be  seen  from  the  Assouan  Papyri,  wrote 
home  in  cases  of  need  in  the  time  of  Nehemiah; 

280 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

and  in  the  same  age  we  hear  also  of  "  open  letters," 
for  Sanballat  sends  a  missive  of  that  description  by 
his  servant;  and  apparently  it  was  by  means  of  a 
similar  letter  that  the  festival  of  Purim  was  an 
nounced  to  the  Jews  (Esther  ix.,  where,  unlike  the 
other  passages  quoted,  the  exact  words  of  the  let 
ter  of  Mordecai  are  not  given) .  The  order  to  cele 
brate  Chanukah  was  published  in  the  same  way, 
and,  indeed,  the  books  of  the  Apocrypha  contain 
many  interesting  letters,  and  in  the  pages  of  Jose- 
phus  the  Jews  hold  frequent  intercourse  in  this  way 
with  many  foreign  countries.  In  the  latter  cases, 
when  the  respective  kings  corresponded,  the  letters 
were  conveyed  by  special  embassies. 

One  might  expect  this  epistolary  activity  to  dis 
play  itself  at  an  even  more  developed  stage  in  the 
records  of  Rabbinical  times.  But  this  is  by  no 
means  the  case,  for  the  Rabbinical  references  to 
letters  in  the  beginning  of  the  common  era  are  few 
and  far  between.  Polemic  epistles  make  their  ap 
pearance;  but  they  are  the  letters  of  non-Jewish 
missionaries  like  Paul.  This  form  of  polemical 
writing  possessed  many  advantages;  the  letters 
were  passed  on  from  one  reader  to  another;  they 
would  be  read  aloud,  too,  before  gatherings  of  the 
people  to  whom  they  were  addressed.  Maimoni- 

281 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

des,  in  later  times,  frequently  adopted  this  method 
of  communicating  with  whole  communities,  and 
many  of  the  Geonim  and  other  Jewish  authorities 
followed  the  same  plan.  But  somehow  the  device 
seems  not  to  have  commended  itself  to  the  earliest 
Rabbis.  Though  we  read  of  many  personal  visits 
paid  by  the  respective  authorities  of  Babylon  and 
Palestine  to  one  another,  yet  they  appear  to  have 
corresponded  very  rarely  in  writing.  The  reason 
lay  probably  in  the  objection  felt  against  commit 
ting  the  Halachic,  or  legal,  decisions  of  the  schools 
to  writing,  and  there  was  little  else  of  consequence 
to  communicate  after  the  failure  of  Bar-Cochba's 
revolt  against  the  Roman  rule. 

It  must  not  be  thought,  however,  that  this  pro 
hibition  had  the  effect  we  have  described  for  very 
long.  Rabbi  Gamaliel,  Rabbi  Chananiah,  and 
many  others  had  frequent  correspondence  with  far 
distant  places,  and  as  soon  as  the  Mishnah  acquired 
a  fixed  form,  even  though  it  was  not  immediately 
committed  to  writing,  the  recourse  to  letters  be 
came  much  more  common.  Pupils  of  the  com 
pilers  of  the  Mishnah  proceeded  to  Babylon  to 
spread  its  influence,  and  they  naturally  maintained 
a  correspondence  with  their  chiefs  in  Palestine. 
Rab  and  Samuel  in  particular,  among  the  Amo- 

282 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

raim,  were  regular  letter-writers,  and  Rabbi  Jocha- 
nan  replied  to  them.  Towards  the  end  of  the  third 
century  this  correspondence  between  Judea  and 
Babylon  became  even  more  active.  Abitur  and 
Abin  often  wrote  concerning  legal  decisions  and 
the  doings  of  the  schools,  and  thereby  the  intellec 
tual  activity  of  Judaism  maintained  its  solidarity 
despite  the  fact  that  the  Jewish  people  was  no 
longer  united  in  one  land.  In  the  Talmud  we  fre 
quently  read,  "  they  sent  from  there,"  viz.  Pales 
tine.  Obviously  these  messages  were  sent  in  writ 
ing,  though  possibly  the  bearer  of  the  message  was 
often  himself  a  scholar,  who  conveyed  his  report 
by  word  of  mouth.  Perhaps  the  growth  of  the 
Rabbi's  practice  of  writing  responses  to  questions 
— a  practice  that  became  so  markedly  popular  in 
subsequent  centuries — may  be  connected  with  the 
similar  habit  of  the  Roman  jurists  and  the  Chris 
tian  Church  fathers,  and  the  form  of  response 
adopted  by  the  eighth  century  Geonim  is  reminis 
cent  of  that  of  the  Roman  lawyers.  The  substance 
of  the  letters,  however,  is  by  no  means  the  same ; 
the  Church  father  wrote  on  dogmatic,  the  Rabbi 
on  legal,  questions.  Between  the  middle  of  the 
fourth  century  and  the  time  of  the  Geonim,  we 
find  no  information  as  to  the  use  of  letters  among 

283 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

the  Jews.  From  that  period  onwards,  however, 
Jews  became  very  diligent  letter-writers,  and  some 
times,  for  instance  in  the  case  of  the  "  Guide  of 
the  Perplexed  "  of  Maimonides,  whole  works  were 
transmitted  in  the  form  of  letters.  The  scattering 
of  Israel,  too,  rendered  it  important  to  Jews  to  ob 
tain  information  of  the  fortunes  of  their  brethren 
in  different  parts  of  the  world.  Rumors  of  Messi 
anic  appearances  from  the  twelfth  century  on 
wards,  the  contest  with  regard  to  the  study  of  phil 
osophy,  the  fame  of  individual  Rabbis,  the  rise  of 
a  class  of  travellers  who  made  very  long  and  dan 
gerous  journeys,  all  tended  to  increase  the  facilities 
and  necessities  of  intercourse  by  letter.  It  was 
long,  however,  before  correspondence  became  easy 
or  safe.  Not  everyone  is  possessed  of  the  post 
men  assigned  in  Midrashim  to  King  Solomon,  who 
pressed  demons  into  his  service,  and  forced  them 
to  carry  his  letters  wheresoever  he  willed.  Chas- 
dai  experienced  considerable  difficulty  in  transmit 
ting  his  famous  letter  to  the  king  of  the  Chazars, 
and  that  despite  his  position  .of  authority  in  the 
Spanish  State.  In  960  a  letter  on  some  question  of 
Kasher  was  sent  from  the  Rhine  to  Palestine — 
proof  of  the  way  in  which  the  most  remote  Jew 
ish  communities  corresponded. 

284 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

The  question  of  the  materials  used  in  writing 
has  an  important  bearing  on  our  subject.  Of 
course,  the  ritual  regulations  for  writing  the  holy 
books,  the  special  preparation  of  the  parchment, 
the  ink,  the  strict  rules  for  the  formation  of  the 
letters,  hardly  fall  within  the  province  of  this 
article.  In  ancient  times  the  most  diverse  sub 
stances  were  used  for  writing  on.  Palm-leaves 
(for  which  Palestine  of  old  was  famous)  were  a 
common  object  for  the  purpose,  being  so  used  all 
over  Asia.  Some  authorities  believe  that  in  the 
time  of  Moses  the  palm  leaf  was  the  ordinary 
writing-material.  Olive-leaves,  again,  were  thick 
and  hard,  while  carob-leaves  (St.  John's  bread), 
besides  being  smooth,  long,  and  broad,  were  ever 
green,  and  thus  eminently  fitted  for  writing.  Wal 
nut  shells,  pomegranate  skins,  leaves  of  gourds, 
onion-leaves,  lettuce-heads,  even  the  horns  of  cattle, 
and  the  human  body,  letters  being  tattooed  on  the 
hands  of  slaves,  were  all  turned  to  account.  It  is 
maintained  by  some  that  leather  was  the  original 
writing-material  of  the  Hebrews;  others,  again, 
give  their  vote  in  favor  of  linen,  though  the  Tal 
mud  does  not  mention  the  latter  material  in  connec 
tion  with  writing.  Some  time  after  Alexander  the 
Great,  the  Egyptian  papyrus  became  common  in 

885 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

Palestine,  where  it  probably  was  known  earlier,  as 
Jewish  letters  on  papyrus  were  sent  to  Jerusalem 
from  the  Fayyum  in  the  fifth  century  B.  c.  E. 
Even  as  late  as  Maimonides,  the  scrolls  of  the 
Law  were  written  on  leather,  and  not  on  parch 
ment,  which  is  now  the  ordinary  material  for  the 
purpose.  That  the  Torah  was  not  to  be  written 
on  a  vegetable  product  was  an  assumed  first  prin 
ciple.  The  Samaritans  went  so  far  as  to  insist 
that  the  animal  whose  hide  was  needed  for  so 

•  holy  a  purpose,  must  be  slain  Kasher.  Similarly 
with  divorce  documents.  A  Get  on  paper  would 
be  held  legal  post  factum,  though  it  is  not  allowed 
to  use  that  material,  as  it  is  easily  destroyed  or 
mutilated,  and  the  use  of  paper  for  the  purpose 
was  confined  to  the  East.  Some  allowed  the  Book 
of  Esther  to  be  read  from  a  paper  copy;  other  au 
thorities  not  only  strongly  objected  to  this,  but 
even  forbade  the  reading  of  the  Haftarah  from 
paper.  Hence  one  finds  in  libraries  so  many  parch 
ment  scrolls  containing  only  the  Haftarahs.  The 
Hebrew  word  for  letter,  Iggereth,  is  of  unknown 
origin,  though  it  is  now  commonly  taken  to  be  an 

'  Assyrian  loan-word.  It  used  to  be  derived  from  a 
root  signifying  to  "  hire,"  in  reference  to  the 
"  hired  courier,"  by  whom  it  was  despatched. 

286 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

Other  terms  for  letter,  such  as  "  book,"  "  roll,"  ex 
plain  themselves.  Black  ink  was  early  used,  though 
it  is  certain  that  it  was  either  kept  in  a  solid  state, 
like  India  ink,  or  that  it  was  of  the  consistency  of 
glue,  and  needed  the  application  of  water  before  it 
could  be  used.  For  pens,  the  iron  stylus,  the  reed, 
needle,  and  quill  (though  the  last  was  not  admitted 
without  a  struggle)  were  the  common  substitutes 
at  various  dates. 

We  must  now  return  to  the  subject  with  which 
we  set  out,  and  make  a  few  supplementary  re 
marks  with  regard  to  the  actual  conveyance  of 
letters.  In  the  Talmud  (Baba  Mezia,  83b)  a 
proverb  is  quoted  to  this  effect,  "  He  who  can  read 
and  understand  the  contents  of  a  letter,  may  be 
the  deliverer  thereof."  As  a  rule,  one  would  pre 
fer  that  the  postman  did  not  read  the  correspond 
ence  he  carries,  and  this  difficulty  seems  to  have 
stood  in  the  wray  of  trusting  letters  to  unknown 
bearers.  To  remove  this  obstacle  to  free  inter 
course,  Rabbenu  Gershom  issued  his  well-known 
decree,  under  penalty  of  excommunication,  against 
anyone  who,  entrusted  with  a  letter  to  another, 
made  himself  master  of  its  contents.  To  the 
present  day,  in  some  places,  the  Jewish  writer 
writes  on  the  outside  of  his  letter,  the  abbreviation 

287 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

,  which  alludes  to  this  injunction  of  Rab- 
benu  Gershom.  Again,  the  Sabbath  was  and  still 
is  a  difficulty  with  observant  Jews.  Rabbi  Jose 
ha-Cohen  is  mentioned  in  the  Talmud  (Sabbath, 
iQa)  as  deserving  of  the  following  compliment. 
He  never  allowed  a  letter  of  his  to  get  into 
the  hands  of  a  non-Jew,  for  fear  he  might  carry  it 
on  the  Sabbath,  and  strict  laws  are  laid  down  on 
the  subject.  That  Christians  in  modern  times  en 
trusted  their  letters  to  Jews  goes  without  saying, 
and  even  in  places  where  this  is  not  commonly  al 
lowed,  the  non-Jew  is  employed  when  the  letter 
contains  bad  news.  Perhaps  for  this  reason  Rab- 
benu  Jacob  Tarn  permitted  divorces  to  be  sent  by 
post,  though  the  controversy  on  the  legality  of  such 
delivery  is,  I  believe,  still  undecided. 

Besides  packmen,  who  would  often  be  the  me 
dium  by  which  letters  were  transmitted,  there  was 
in  some  Jewish  communities  a  special  class  that  de 
voted  themselves  to  a  particular  branch  of  the  pro 
fession.  They  made  it  their  business  to  seek  out 
lost  sons  and  deliver  messages  to  them  from  their 
anxious  parents.  Some  later  Jewish  authorities, 
in  view  of  the  distress  that  the  silence  of  absent 
loved  ones  causes  to  those  at  home,  lay  down  the 
rule  that  the  duty  of  honoring  parents,  the  fifth 

288 


JEWS  AND  LETTERS 

commandment,  includes  the  task  of  corresponding 
when  absent  from  them.  These  peripatetic  letter- 
carriers  also  conveyed  the  documents  of  divorce  to 
women  that  would  otherwise  be  in  the  unpleasant 
condition  of  being  neither  married  nor  single. 
Among  the  most  regular  and  punctual  of  Jewish 
postmen  may  be  mentioned  the  bearers  of  begging 
letters  and  begging  books.  There  is  no  fear  that 
these  will  not  be  duly  delivered. 

Our  reference  to  letters  of  recommendation  re 
minds  us  of  an  act,  on  the  part  of  a  modern  Rabbi, 
of  supererogation  in  the  path  of  honesty.  The 
post  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Government,  and,  ac 
cordingly,  the  late  Rabbi  Bamberger  of  Wiirz- 
burg,  whenever  he  gave  a  Haskamah,  or  recom 
mendation,  which  would  be  delivered  by  hand,  was 
wont  to  destroy  a  postage  stamp,  so  as  not  to  de 
fraud  the  Government,  even  in  appearance.  With 
this  remarkable  instance  of  conscientious  upright 
ness,  we  may  fitly  conclude  this  notice,  suggested 
as  it  has  been  by  the  modern  improvements  in  the 
postal  system,  which  depend  for  their  success  so 
largely  on  the  honesty  of  the  public. 

[Notes,  p.  314] 


19 


VIII 
THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

Dr.  Johnson  said,  "  It  is  easier  to  know  that  a 
cake  is  bad  than  to  make  a  good  one."  I  had  a 
tiny  quantity  of  material  which,  by  dint  of  much 
rolling,  I  might  have  expanded  into  a  broad,  flat, 
unsubstantial  whole,  I  preferred,  however,  to 
make  of  my  little  piece  of  dough  a  little  cake,  small 
and  therefore  less  pretentious.  I  am  afraid  that 
even  in  this  concentrated  form  it  will  prove  flavor 
less  and  indigestible,  but  the  cook  must  be  blamed, 
not  the  material. 

I  have  no  intention  to  consider  the  various  opera 
tions  connected  with  the  preparation  of  unleavened 
Passover  cakes :  the  kneading,  the  ingredients,  the 
curious  regulations  regarding  the  water  used,  such 
precautions  as  carefully  watching  the  ovens.  Those 
who  are  inclined  to  connect  some  of  these  customs 
with  the  practices  of  non-Jewish  peoples  will  find 
some  interesting  facts  on  all  theses  topics;  but 
what  I  wish  to  speak  of  now  is  the  shape  and  form 
of  Passover  cakes. 

290 


THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

The  Christian  emblems  that  figure  in  the  cele 
bration  of  the  Eucharist,  or  Lord's  Supper,  were 
probably  derived  from  the  ceremonies  of  the 
Passover  eve.  The  bread  employed  in  the  Eucha 
rist  is  with  some  Christian  sects  unleavened,  and, 
indeed,  leavened  cakes  seem  to  have  been  intro 
duced  solely  as  a  protest  against  certain  so-called 
Judaizing  tendencies.  The  Latin  Church  still  con 
tends  for  the  propriety  of  employing  unleavened 
bread,  and  from  the  seventh  century  unleavened 
bread  was  used  at  Rome  and  leavened  bread  at 
Constantinople.  From  the  earliest  times,  how 
ever,  the  Eucharistic  loaves  were  invariably  round 
in  shape,  there  being,  indeed,  a  supposed  edict  by 
Pope  Zephyrinus  (197-217)  to  that  effect.  It  is 
passing  strange  that  Bona,  an  ecclesiastical  writer, 
derived  this  roundness  from  the  shape  of  the  coins 
Judas  received  for  betraying  his  master.  But 
though  there  is  no  distinct  enactment  either  in  the 
Talmud  or  in  any  of  the  later  codes  as  to  what 
the  form  of  the  Matzoth  must  be,  these  have 
been  from  time  immemorial  round  also.  Some 
Minhagim  are  more  firmly  rooted  than  actual  laws, 
and  this  custom  is  one  of  them.  In  one  of  his  car 
toons,  Picard  has  an  illustration  which  is  appar 
ently  that  of  a  squarish  Matzah;  this  may,  how- 

291 


THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

ever,  be  only  a  case  of  defective  drawing.  It  is  true 
that  in  Roumania  square  Matzoth  are  used,  but 
in  the  controversy  raised  by  the  introduction  of 
Matzah-making  machines,  the  opponents  of  the 
change  argued  as  though  no  other  than  a  round 
shape  were  conceivable.  Kluger,  for  instance,  never 
seems  to  have  realized  that  his  weightiest  objec 
tion  to  the  use  of  the  machine  would  be  obviated 
by  making  the  Matzoth  square  or  rectangular. 
When  it  was  first  proposed  to  introduce  Matzah 
machines  in  London,  the  resistance  came  chiefly 
from  the  manufacturers,  and  not  from  the  eccle 
siastical  authorities.  The  bakers  refused  categori 
cally  to  make  square  Matzoth,  declaring  that  if 
they  did  so,  their  stock  would  be  unsalable.  Even 
to  the  present  day  no  square  Matzoth  are  baked  in 
London ;  those  occasionally  seen  there  are  imported 
from  the  Continent.  The  ancient  Egyptians  made 
their  cakes  round,  and  the  Matzoth  are  regarded 
Midrashically  as  a  memorial  of  the  food  which  the 
Egyptian  masters  forced  on  their  Israelite  slaves. 
A  round  shape  is  apparently  the  simplest  symmetri 
cal  form,  but  beyond  this  I  fancy  that  the  round 
form  of  the  Passover  bread  is  partly  due  to  the 
double  meaning  of  Uggoth  Matzoth.  The  word 
Uggoth  signifies  cakes  baked  in  the  sand  or  hot 

292 


THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

embers;  but  Uggah  also  means  a  "circle."  To  re 
turn,  however,  to  the  Eucharistic  wafers. 

A  further  point  of  identity,  though  only  a  mi 
nute  detail,  can  be  traced  in  the  regulation  that  the 
Eucharistic  oblate  from  which  the  priest  communi 
cated  was,  in  the  ninth  century,  larger  than  the 
loaves  used  by  the  people.  So  the  Passover  cakes 
(Shimmurim)  used  by  the  master  of  the  house, 
and  particularly  the  middle  cake,  pieces  of  which 
were  distributed,  were  made  larger  than  the  ordi 
nary  Matzoth.  Picard  (1723)  curiously  enough 
reverses  this  relation,  and  draws  the  ordinary 
Matzoth  much  larger  and  thicker  than  the  Shim 
murim.  The  ordinary  Matzoth  he  represents  as 
thick  oval  cakes,  with  a  single  coil  of  large  holes, 
which  start  outwards  from  the  centre.  Picard 
speaks  of  Matzoth  made  in  different  shapes,  but 
he  gives  no  details. 

In  the  Middle  Ages,  and,  indeed,  as  early  as 
Chrysostom  (fourth  century),  the  Church  cakes 
were  marked  with  a  cross,  and  bore  various  inscrip 
tions.  In  the  Coptic  Church,  for  example,  the  le 
gend  was  "  Holy!  holy!  holy  is  the  Lord  of  hosts." 
Now,  in  a  Latin  work,  Roma  subterranea,  about 
1650,  a  statement  is  made  which  seems  to  imply 
that  the  Passover  cakes  of  the  Jews  were  also 

293 


THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

marked  with  crosses.  What  can  have  led  to  this 
notion  ?  The  origin  is  simple  enough.  The  ancient 
Romans,  as  Aringhus  himself  writes,  and  as  Virgil, 
Horace,  and  Martial  frequently  mention,  made 
their  loaves  with  cross  indentations,  in  order  to 
facilitate  dividing  them  into  four  parts :  much  as 
nowadays  Scotch  scones  are  baked  four  together, 
and  the  central  dividing  lines  give  the  fourfold 
scone  the  appearance  of  bearing  a  cross  mark.  It 
may  be  that  the  Jews  made  their  Passover  cakes, 
which  were  thicker  than  ours  and  harder  to  break, 
in  the  same  way.  But,  besides,  the  small  holes  and 
indentations  that  cover  the  surface  of  the  modern 
Matzah  might,  if  the  Matzah  be  held  in  certain 
positions,  possibly  be  mistaken  for  a  cross.  These 
indentations  are,  I  should  add,  very  ancient,  being 
referred  to  in  the  Talmud,  and,  if  I  may  venture 
a  suggestion,  also  in  the  Bible,  I  Kings  xiv.  3,  and 
elsewhere,  Nekudim  being  cakes  punctuated  with 
small  interstices. 

We  can  carry  the  explanation  a  little  further. 
The  three  Matzoth  Shimmurim  used  in  the  Hag- 
gadah  Service  were  made  with  especial  care,  and  in 
medieval  times  were  denominated  Priest,  Levite, 
Israelite,  in  order  to  discriminate  among  them. 
Picard,  by  an  amusing  blunder,  speaks  of  a  gateau 

294 


THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

des  Uvites;  he,  of  course,  means  the  middle  cake. 
From  several  authorities  it  is  clear  that  the  three 
Matzoth  were  inscribed  in  some  cases  with  these 
three  words,  in  others  with  the  letters  Alef)  Beth, 
Gimmel,  in  order  to  distinguish  them.  A  rough 
Alef  would  not  look  unlike  a  cross.  Later  on, 
the  three  Matzoth  were  distinguished  by  one,  two, 
three  indentations  respectively,  as  in  the  Roman 
numerals;  and  even  at  the  present  day  care  is 
sometimes  taken,  though  in  other  ways,  to  prevent 
the  Priest,  Levite,  and  Israelite  from  falling  into 
confusion.  I  do  not  know  whether  the  stringent 
prohibition,  by  the  Shulchan  Aruch,  of  "  shaped 
or  marked  cakes  "  for  use  on  Passover,  may  not 
be  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Eucharistic  cakes  used 
by  Christians  were  marked  with  letters  and  sym 
bols.  Certain  it  is  that  the  prohibition  of  these 
"  shaped  "  cakes  is  rather  less  emphatic  in  the  Tal 
mud  than  in  the  later  authorities,  who  up  to  a  cer 
tain  date  are  never  weary  of  condemning  or  at 
least  discouraging  the  practice.  The  custom  of 
using  these  cakes  is  proved  to  be  widespread  by 
the  very  frequency  of  the  prohibitions,  and  they 
were  certainly  common  in  the  beginning  of  the  six 
teenth  century,  from  which  period  seems  to  date 
the  custom  of  making  the  Matzoth  very  thin, 

295 


THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

though  the  thicker  species  has  not  been  entirely 
superseded  even  up  to  the  present  day.  In  the 
East  the  Matzoth  are  still  made  very  thick  and 
unpalatable.  They  cannot  be  eaten  as  they  are; 
they  are  either  softened,  by  being  dipped  in  some 
liquid,  or  they  are  ground  down  to  meal,  and  then 
remade  into  smaller  and  more  edible  cakes. 

The  Talmud  mentions  a  "  stamp  "  in  connec 
tion  with  "  shaped  cakes,"  which  Buxtorf  takes 
for  Lebkuchen,  and  Levy  for  scalloped  and  fanci 
fully-edged  cakes.  The  Geonim,  however,  ex 
plain  that  they  were  made  in  the  forms  of  birds, 
beasts,  and  fishes.  I  have  seen  Matzoth  made  in 
this  way  in  London,  and  have  myself  eaten  many 
a  Matzah  sheep  and  monkey,  but,  unfortunately,  I 
cannot  recollect  whether  it  was  during  Passover. 
In  Holland,  these  shaped  cakes  are  still  used,  but 
in  "  strict  "  families  only  before  the  Passover. 

Limits  of  space  will  not  allow  me  to  quote  some 
interesting  notes  with  reference  to  Hebrew  inscrip 
tions  on  cakes  generally,  which  would  furnish  par 
allels  to  the  Holy!  holy!  of  the  Coptic  wafers. 
Children  received  such  cakes  as  a  "  specific  for  be 
coming  wise."  Some  directions  may  be  found  in 
Sefer  Razlel  for  making  charm-cakes,  which  must 
have  been  the  reverse  of  charming  from  the  unut 
terable  names  of  angels  written  on  them.  One  such 

296 


THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

charm,  however,  published  by  Horwitz,  I  cannot 
refrain  from  mentioning,  as  it  is  very  curious  and 
practical.  It  constitutes  a  never-failing  antidote  to 
forgetfulness,  and,  for  aught  I  know,  may  be  quite 
as  efficacious  as  some  of  the  quack  mnemonic  sys 
tems  extensively  advertised  nowadays. 

"  The  following  hath  been  tried  and  found  reliable,  and  Rabbi 
Saadia  ben  Joseph  made  use  of  it.  He  discovered  it  in  the  cave 
of  Rabbi  Eleazar  Kalir,  and  all  the  wise  men  of  Israel  together 
with  their  pupils  applied  the  remedy  with  excellent  effect: — At 
the  beginning  of  the  month  of  Sivan  take  some  wheatmeal  and 
knead  it,  and  be  sure  to  remain  standing.  Make  cakes  and  bake 
them,  write  thereon  the  verse,  '  Memory  hath  He  made  among 
His  wondrous  acts:  gracious  and  merciful  is  the  Lord.'  Take 
an  egg  and  boil  it  hard,  peel  it,  and  write  on  it  the  names  of 
five  angels ;  eat  such  a  cake  every  day,  for  thirty  days,  with  an 
egg,  and  thou  wilt  learn  all  thou  seest,  and  wilt  never  forget." 

The  manuscript  illuminated  Haggadahs  are  re 
plete  with  interest  and  information.  But  I  must 
avoid  further  observations  on  these  manuscripts  ex 
cept  in  so  far  as  they  illustrate  my  present  subject. 
In  the  Haggadah  the  question  is  asked,  "  Why  do 
we  eat  this  Matzah?  "  and  at  the  words  "  this 
Matzah  "  the  illuminated  manuscripts  contain,  in 
the  great  majority  of  cases,  representations  of  Mat- 
zoth.  These  in  some  instances  present  rather  in- 

297 


THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

teresting  features,  which  may  throw  historical  light 
on  the  archeology  of  the  subject.  Some  of  these 
figured  Matzoth  are  oval,  one  I  have  seen  star- 
shaped,  but  almost  all  are  circular  in  form.  Many, 
however,  unlike  the  modern  Matzah  and  owing  to 
the  shape  of  the  mould,  have  a  broad  border  dis 
tinct  from  the  rest  of  the  cake.  The  Crawford 
Haggadah,  now  in  the  Ryland  library,  Manchester, 
pictures  a  round  Matzah  through  which  a  pretty 
flowered  design  runs.  Others,  again,  and  this  I 
think  a  very  ancient,  as  it  certainly  is  a  very  com 
mon,  design,  are  covered  with  transverse  lines, 
which  result  in  producing  diamond-shaped  spaces 
with  a  very  pleasing  effect,  resembling  somewhat 
the  appearance  of  the  lattice  work  cakes  used  in 
Italy  and  Persia,  I  think.  The  lines,  unless  they  be 
mere  pictorial  embellishments,  are,  possibly,  as  in 
the  Leeds  cakes,  rows  of  indentations  resulting 
from  the  punctuation  of  the  Matzah.  In  one 
British  Museum  manuscript  (Roman  rite,  1482), 
the  star  and  diamond  shapes  are  combined,  the  bor 
der  being  surrounded  with  small  triangles,  and  the 
centre  of  the  cake  being  divided  into  diamond-like 
sections.  In  yet  another  manuscript  the  Matzah 
has  a  border,  divided  by  small  lines  into  almost 
rectangular  sections,  while  the  body  of  the  cake  is 

298 


THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

ornamented  with  a  design  in  which  variously  shaped 
figures,  quadrilaterals  and  triangles,  are  irregularly 
interspersed.  One  fanciful  picture  deserves  special 
mention,  as  it  is  the  only  one  of  the  kind  in  all  the  il 
lustrated  manuscripts  and  printed  Haggadahs  in  the 
Oxford  and  British  Museum  libraries.  This  Mat 
zah  occurs  in  an  Italian  manuscript  of  the  four 
teenth  century.  It  is  adorned  with  a  flowered  bor 
der,  and  in  the  centre  appears  a  human-faced  quad 
ruped  of  apparently  Egyptian  character. 

Poetry  and  imagination  are  displayed  in  some 
of  these  devices,  but  in  only  one  or  two  cases  did 
the  artists  attain  high  levels  of  picturesque  illustra 
tion.  How  suggestive,  for  instance,  is  the  chain 
pattern,  adopted  in  a  manuscript  of  the  Michaelis 
Collection  at  Oxford.  It  must  not  be  thought  that 
this  idea  at  least  was  never  literally  realized,  for 
only  last  year  I  was  shown  a  Matzah  made  after  a 
very  similar  design,  possibly  not  for  use  on  the  first 
two  nights  of  Passover.  The  bread  of  affliction  re 
calls  the  Egyptian  bonds,  and  it  is  an  ingenious 
idea  to  bid  us  ourselves  turn  the  ancient  chains  to 
profitable  use — by  eating  them.  This  expressive 
design  is  surpassed  by  another,  found  in  a  beauti 
fully-illuminated  manuscript  of  the  fourteenth  cen 
tury.  This  Matzah  bears  a  curious  device  in  the 

299 


THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

centre:  it  is  a  prison  door  modelled  with  consid 
erable  skill,  but  I  do  not  suppose  that  Matzoth 
were  ever  made  in  this  fashion. 

[Notes,  pp.  314-315] 


300 


NOTES 

"  THE  BOOK  OF  DELIGHT  " 
(pp.  9-61) 

The  connection  between  Zabara's  work  and  the  Solomon  and 
Marcolf  legend  was  first  pointed  out  in  my  "  Short  History  of 
Jewish  Literature"  (1906),  p.  95.  I  had  long  before  detected 
the  resemblance,  though  I  was  not  aware  of  it  when  I  wrote 
an  essay  on  Zabara  in  the  Jewish  Quarterly  Review.  To  the 
latter  (vi,  pp.  502  et  seq.}  the  reader  is  referred  for  biblio 
graphical  notes,  and  also  for  details  on  the  textual  relations  of 
the  two  editions  of  Zabara's  poem. 

A  number  of  parallels  with  other  folk-literatures  are  there  in 
dicated;  others  have  been  added  by  Dr.  Israel  Davidson,  in  his 
edition  of  the  "Three  Satires"  (New  York,  1904),  which  accom 
pany  the  "  Book  of  Delight "  in  the  Constantinople  edition,  and 
are  also  possibly  by  Zabara. 

The  late  Professor  David  Kaufmann  informed  me  some  years 
ago  that  he  had  a  manuscript  of  the  poem  in  his  possession. 
But,  after  his  death,  the  manuscript  could  not  be  found  in  his 
library.  Should  it  eventually  be  rediscovered,  it  would  be  de 
sirable  to  have  a  new,  carefully  printed  edition  of  the  Hebrew 
text  of  the  "  Book  of  Delight."  I  would  gladly  place  at  the 
disposal  of  the  editor  my  copy  of  the  Constantinople  edition, 
made  from  the  Oxford  specimen.  The  Bodleian  copy  does  not 
seem  to  be  unique,  as  had  been  supposed. 

The  literature  on  the  Solomon  and  Marcolf  legend  is  exten 
sive.  The  following  references  may  suffice.  J.  M.  Kemble 
published  (London,  1848)  "The  Dialogue  of  Solomon  and 
Saturnus,"  for  the  Aelfric  Society.  "Of  all  the  forms  of  the 

301 


NOTES— A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 

story  yet  preserved,"  says  Mr.  Kemble,  "  the  Anglo-Saxon  are 
undoubtedly  the  oldest."  He  talks  vaguely  of  the  intermixture 
of  Oriental  elements,  but  assigns  a  northern  origin  to  one  portion 
of  the  story.  Grimm  had  argued  for  a  Hebrew  source,  think 
ing  Marcolf  a  name  of  scorn  in  Hebrew.  But  the  Hebrew  Mar- 
colis  (or  however  one  may  spell  it)  is  simply  Mercury.  In  the 
Latin  version,  however,  Marcolf  is  distinctly  represented  as 
coming  from  the  East.  William  of  Tyre  (i2th  cent.)  suggests 
the  identity  of  Marcolf  with  Abdemon,  whom  Josephus  (''Antiq 
uities,"  VIII,  v,  3)  names  as  Hiram's  Riddle-Guesser.  A  useful 
English  edition  is  E.  Gordon  Duff's  "  Dialogue  or  Communing 
between  the  Wise  King  Salomon  and  Marcolphus "  (London, 
1892).  Here,  too,  as  in  the  Latin  version,  Marcolf  is  a  man 
from  the  Orient.  Besides  these  books,  two  German  works  de 
serve  special  mention.  F.  Vogt,  in  his  essay  entitled  Die  deutschen 
Dichtungen  von  Salomon  und  Markolf,  which  appeared  in  Halle, 
in  1880,  also  thinks  Marcolf  an  Eastern.  Finally,  as  the  second 
part  of  his  Untersuchungen  zur  mittelhochdeutschen  Spielmanns- 
poesie"  (Schwerin,  1894),  H.  Tardel  published  Zum  Salman- 
Morolf.  Tardel  is  skeptical  as  to  the  Eastern  provenance  of  the 
legend. 

It  has  been  thought  that  a  form  of  this  legend  is  referred  to 
in  the  fifth  century.  The  Contradictio  Solomonis,  which  Pope 
Gelasius  excluded  from  the  sacred  canon,  has  been  identified 
with  some  version  of  the  Marcolf  story. 

A  VISIT  TO  HEBRON 
(pp.  62-92) 

The  account  of  Hebron,  given  in  this  volume,  must  be  read  for 
what  it  was  designed  to  be,  an  impressionist  sketch.  The  history 
of  the  site,  in  so  far  as  it  has  been  written,  must  be  sought  in 
more  technical  books.  As  will  be  seen  from  several  details,  my 
visit  was  paid  in  the  month  of  April,  just  before  Passover. 
Things  have  altered  in  some  particulars  since  I  was  there,  but 
there  has  been  no  essential  change  in  the  past  decade. 

302 


NOTES— THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

The  Hebron  Haram,  or  shrine  over  the  Cave  of  Machpelah, 
is  fully  described  in  the  "  Cruise  of  H.  M.  S.  Bacchante,  1879- 
1882,"  ii,  pp.  595-619.  (Compare  "Survey  of  Western  Pales 
tine,"  iii,  pp.  333-346;  and  the  Quarterly  Statement  of  the  Pales 
tine  Exploration  Fund,  1882,  pp.  197-214.)  Colonel  Conder's 
account  narrates  the  experiences  of  the  present  King  of  England 
at  the  Haram  in  April,  1882.  Dean  Stanley  had  previously  en 
tered  the  Haram  with  King  Edward  VII,  in  January,  1862  (see 
Stanley's  "Sermons  in  the  East,"  1863,  pp.  141-169).  A  good 
note  on  the  relation  between  these  modern  narratives  and  David 
Reubeni's  (dating  from  the  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century) 
was  contributed  by  Canon  Dalton  to  the  Quarterly  Statement, 
1897,  p.  53.  A  capital  plan  of  the  Haram  is  there  printed. 

Mr.  Adler's  account  of  his  visit  to  Hebron  will  be  found  in 
his  "Jews  in  Many  Lands,"  pp.  104-111;  he  tells  of  his  entry 
into  the  Haram  on  pp.  137-138. 

M.  Lucien  Gautier's  work  referred  to  is  his  Souvenirs  du 
Terre-Sainte  (Lausanne,  1898).  The  description  of  glass-mak 
ing  appears  on  p.  53  of  that  work. 

The  somewhat  startling  identification  of  the  Ramet  el-Khalil, 
near  Hebron,  with  the  site  of  the  altar  built  by  Samuel  in 
Ramah  (I  Sam.  vii.  17)  is  justified  at  length  in  Mr.  Shaw  Calde- 
cott's  book  "The  Tabernacle,  its  History  and  Structure"  (Lon 
don,  1904). 

THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 
(pp.  93-121) 

The  opening  quotation  is  from  the  Ethical  Will  of  Judah  ibn 
Tibbon,  the  "  father "  of  Jewish  translators.  The  original  is 
fully  analyzed  in  an  essay  by  the  present  writer,  in  the  Jewish 
Quarterly  Review,  iii,  453.  See  also  ibidem,  p.  483.  The  Hebrew 
text  was  printed  by  Edelmann,  and  also  by  Steinschneider;  by 
the  latter  at  Berlin,  1852. 

A  writer  much  cited  in  this  same  essay,  Richard  of  Bury,  de 
rived  his  name  from  his  birthplace,  Bury  St.  Edmunds.  "  He 
tells  us  himself  in  his  '  Philobiblon '  that  he  used  his  high  offices 

I  303 


NOTES— THE  SOLACE  OF  BOOKS 

of  state  as  a  means  of  collecting  books.  He  let  it  be  known  that 
books  were  the  most  acceptable  presents  that  could  be  made  to 
him"  ("Dictionary  of  National  Biography,"  viii,  26).  He  was 
also  a  student  of  Hebrew,  and  collected  grammars  of  that  lan 
guage.  Altogether  his  "  Philobiblon "  is  an  "  admirable  exhibi 
tion  of  the  temper  of  a  book-lover."  Written  in  the  early  part 
of  the  fourteenth  century,  the  "  Philobiblon  "  was  first  published, 
at  Cologne,  in  1473.  The  English  edition  cited  in  this  essay  is 
that  published  in  the  King's  Classics  (De  la  More  Library,  ed. 
I.  Gollancz). 

The  citation  from  Montaigne  is  from  his  essay  on  the  "  Three 
Commerces"  (bk.  iii,  ch.  iii).  The  same  passages,  in  Florio's 
rendering,  will  be  found  in  Mr.  A.  R.  Waller's  edition  (Dent's 
Everyman's  Library),  iii,  pp.  48-50.  Of  the  three  "Com 
merces"  (/.  e.  societies) — Men,  Women,  and  Books — Montaigne 
proclaims  that  the  commerce  of  books  "  is  much  more  solid-sure 
and  much  more  ours."  I  have  claimed  Montaigne  as  the  great- 
grandson  of  a  Spanish  Jew  on  the  authority  of  Mr.  Waller  (In 
troduction,  p.  vii). 

The  paragraphs  on  books  from  the  "  Book  of  the  Pious," 
§§  873-932,  have  been  collected  (and  translated  into  English) 
by  the  Rev.  Michael  Adler,  in  an  essay  called  "  A  Medieval 
Bookworm"  (see  The  Bookworm,  ii,  251). 

The  full  title  of  Mr.  Alexander  Ireland's  book — so  much 
drawn  upon  in  this  essay — is  "  The  Book-Lover's  Enchiridion,  a 
Treasury  of  Thoughts  on  the  Solace  and  Companionship  of 
Books,  Gathered  from  the  Writings  of  the  Greatest  Thinkers, 
from  Cicero,  Petrarch,  and  Montaigne,  to  Carlyle,  Emerson,  and 
Ruskin "  (London  and  New  York,  1894). 

Mr.  F.  M.  Nichols'  edition  of  the  "Letters  of  Erasmus"  (1901) 
is  the  source  of  the  quotation  of  one  of  that  worthy's  letters. 

The  final  quotation  comes  from  the  Wisdom  of  Solomon,  ch. 
vi.  v.  12;  ch.  viii.  vv.  2,  16;  and  ch.  ix.  v.  4.  The  "  radiance  "  of 
Wisdom  is,  in  ch.  vii,  26,  explained  in  the  famous  words,  "  For 
she  is  an  effulgence  from  everlasting  light,  an  unspotted  mirror 
of  the  working  of  God,  and  an  image  of  His  goodness." 

304 


NOTES— MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 
MEDIEVAL  WAYFARING 

(pp.  122-158) 

The  evidence  for  many  of  the  statements  in  this  paper  will  be 
found  in  various  contexts  in  "  Jewish  Life  in  the  Middle  Ages," 
in  the  Hebrew  travel  literature,  and  in  such  easily  accessible 
works  as  Graetz's  "  History  of  the  Jews." 

Achimaaz  has  been  much  used  by  me.  His  "  Book  of  Geneal 
ogies  "  (Sefer  Yochasin]  was  written  in  1055.  The  Hebrew 
text  wras  included  by  Dr.  A.  Neubauer  in  his  "  Mediaeval 
Jewish  Chronicles,"  ii,  pp.  114  et  seq.  I  might  have  cited 
Achimaaz's  account  of  an  amusing  incident  in  the  synagogue  at 
Venosa.  There  had  been  an  uproar  in  the  Jewish  quarter,  and 
a  wag  added  some  lines  on  the  subject  to  the  manuscript  of  the 
Midrash  which  the  travelling  preacher  was  to  read  on  the  fol 
lowing  Sabbath.  The  effect  of  the  reading  may  be  imagined. 

Another  source  for  many  of  my  statements  is  a  work  by  Julius 
Aronius,  Regesten  zur  Geschichte  der  Juden  in  Deutschland, 
Berlin,  1893.  It  presents  many  new  facts  on  the  medieval  Jewries 
of  Germany. 

The  quaint  story  of  the  Jewish  sailors  told  by  Synesius  is 
taken  from  T.  R.  Glover's  "  Life  and  Letters  in  the  Fourth 
Century"  (Cambridge,  1901),  p.  330. 

A  careful  statement  on  communal  organization  with  regard  to 
the  status  of  travellers  and  settlers  was  contributed  by  Weinberg 
to  vol.  xli  of  the  Breslau  Monatsschrift.  The  title  of  the  series  of 
papers  is  Die  Organisation  der  jiidischen  Gemeinden. 

For  evidence  of  the  existence  of  Communal  Codes,  or  Note- 
Books,  see  Dr.  A.  Berliner's  Beitrdge  zur  Geschichte  der  Raschi- 
Commentare,  Berlin,  1903,  p.  3. 

Benjamin  of  Tudela's  "Itinerary"  has  been  often  edited,  most 
recently  by  the  late  M.  N.  Adler  (London,  1907).  Benjamin's 
travels  occupied  the  years  1166  to  1171,  and  his  narrative  is  at 
once  informing  and  entertaining.  The  motives  for  his  extensive 
journeys  through  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa  are  thus  summed  up 
by  Mr.  Adler  (pp.  xii,  xiii) :  "At  the  time  of  the  Crusades,  the 

20  305 


NOTES— THE  FOX'S  HEART 

most  prosperous  communities  in  Germany  and  the  Jewish  con 
gregations  that  lay  along  the  route  to  Palestine  had  been  exter 
minated  or  dispersed,  and  even  in  Spain,  where  the  Jews  had 
enjoyed  complete  security  for  centuries,  they  were  being  piti 
lessly  persecuted  in  the  Moorish  kingdom  of  Cordova.  It  is  not 
unlikely,  therefore,  that  Benjamin  may  have  undertaken  his 
journey  with  the  object  of  finding  out  where  his  expatriated 
brethren  might  find  an  asylum.  It  will  be  noted  that  Benjamin 
seems  to  use  every  effort  to  trace  and  afford  particulars  of  inde 
pendent  communities  of  Jews,  who  had  chiefs  of  their  own,  and 
owed  no  allegiance  to  the  foreigner.  He  may  have  had  trade 
and  mercantile  operations  in  view.  He  certainly  dwells  on  mat 
ters  of  commercial  interest  with  considerable  detail.  Probably 
he  was  actuated  by  both  motives,  coupled  with  the  pious  wish 
of  making  a  pilgrimage  to  the  land  of  his  fathers." 

For  Jewish  pilgrims  to  Palestine  see  Steinschneider's  contribu 
tion  to  Rohricht  and  Meisner's  Deutsche  Pilgerreisen,  pp.  548- 
648.  My  statement  as  to  the  existence  of  a  Jewish  colony  at 
Ramleh  in  the  eleventh  century  is  based  on  Genizah  documents 
at  Cambridge,  T.  S.  13  J.  i. 

For  my  account  of  the  Trade  Routes  of  the  Jews  in  the  medie 
val  period,  I  am  indebted  to  Beazley's  "  Dawn  of  Modern  Geo 
graphy,"  p.  430. 

The  Letter  of  Nachmanides  is  quoted  from  Dr.  Schechter's 
"Studies  in  Judaism,"  First  Series,  pp.  131  et  seg.  The  text  of 
Obadiah  of  Bertinoro's  letter  was  printed  by  Dr.  Neubauer  in  the 
Jahrbuch  fur  die  Geschichte  der  Juden,  1863. 

THE  FOX'S  HEART 

(pp.  159-171) 

The  main  story  discussed  in  this  essay  is  translated  from  the 
so-called  "Alphabet  of  Ben  Sira,"  the  edition  used  being  Stein 
schneider's  (Alphabetum  Siracidis,  Berlin,  1858). 

The  original  work  consists  of  two  Alphabets  of  Proverbs, — 
twenty-two  in  Aramaic  and  twenty-two  in  Hebrew— and  ii  cm- 


NOTES— "  MARRIAGES  ARE  MADE  IN  HEAVEN" 

bellished  with  comments  and  fables.  A  full  account  of  the  book 
is  given  in  a  very  able  article  by  Professor  L.  Ginzberg,  "  Jew 
ish  Encyclopedia,"  ii,  p.  678.  The  author  is  not  the  Ben  Sira 
who  wrote  the  Wisdom  book  in  the  Apocrypha,  but  the  ascription 
of  it  to  him  led  to  the  incorporation  of  some  legends  concerning 
him.  Dr.  Ginzberg  also  holds  this  particular  Fox  Fable  to  be  a 
composite,  and  to  be  derived  more  or  less  from  Indian  originals. 

"MARRIAGES   ARE   MADE   IN    HEAVEN" 
(pp.  172-183) 

The  chief  authorities  to  which  the  reader  is  referred  are: 
Midrash  Rabba,  Genesis  §68;  Leviticus  §29;  and  Numbers  §§3 
and  22.  Further,  Midrash  Tanchuma,  to  the  sections  Ki  tissa, 
Mattoth,  and  Vayishlach;  Midrash  Samuel,  ch.  v;  Babylonian 
Talmud,  Moed  Katon,  i8b,  and  Sotah,  2a. 

In  Dr.  W.  Bacher's  Agada  der  Tannaiten,  ii,  pp.  168-170,  will 
be  found  important  notes  on  some  of  these  passages. 

I  have  freely  translated  the  story  of  Solomon's  daughter  from 
Buber's  Tanchuma,  Introduction,  p.  136.  It  is  clearly  pieced  to 
gether  from  several  stories,  too  familiar  to  call  for  the  citation 
of  parallels.  With  one  of  the  incidents  may  be  compared  the 
device  of  Sindbad  in  his  second  voyage.  He  binds  himself  to 
one  of  the  feet  of  a  rukh,  *'.  e,  condor,  or  bearded  vulture.  In 
another  adventure  he  attaches  himself  to  the  carcass  of  a 
slaughtered  animal,  and  is  borne  aloft  by  a  vulture.  A  similar 
incident  may  be  noted  in  Pseudo-Ben  Sira  (Steinschneider,  p.  5). 

Compare  also  Gubernatis,  Zool.  Myth,  ii,  94.  The  fabulous 
anka  was  banished  as  punishment  for  carrying  off  a  bride. 

For  the  prayers  based  on  belief  in  the  Divine  appointment  of 
marriages,  see  "  Jewish  Life  in  the  Middle  Ages,"  ch.  x. 

One  of  the  many  sixteenth  century  Tobit  dramas  is  Tobie, 
Comedle  De  Catherin  Le  Doux:  En-  laquelle  on  void  comme  les 
marriages  sont  faicts  au  del,  &  qu'il  n'y  a  rien  qui  eschappe  la 
providence  de  Dieu  (Cassel,  1604). 

307 


NOTES— HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 
(pp.  184-241) 

From  personal  observation,  Dr.  G.  H.  Dalman  collected  a  large 
number  of  modern  Syrian  songs  in  his  Palastinischer  Diivan 
(Leipzig,  1901).  The  songs  were  taken  down,  and  the  melodies 
noted,  in  widely  separated  districts.  Judea,  the  Hauran,  Leba 
non,  are  all  represented.  Dr.  Dalman  prints  the  Arabic  text 
in  "Latin"  transliteration,  and  appends  German  renderings. 
Wetzstein's  earlier  record  of  similar  folk-songs  appears  in  De- 
litzsch's  Commentary  on  Canticles — HoheliedundKoheleth,i%rjf> — • 
and  also  in  the  Zeitschrijt  fur  Ethnologic,  v,  p.  287.  Previous 
commentators  had  sometimes  held  that  the  Song  of  Songs  was  a 
mere  collection  of  detached  and  independent  fragments,  but  on 
the  basis  of  Wetzstein's  discoveries,  Professor  Budde  elaborated 
his  theory,  that  the  Song  is  a  Syrian  wedding-minstrel's  reper 
tory. 

This  theory  will  be  found  developed  in  Budde's  Commentary 
on  Canticles  (1898)  ;  it  is  a  volume  in  Marti's  Kurzer  Hand- 
Commentar  zum  Alien  Testament.  An  elaborate  and  destructive 
criticism  of  the  repertory  theory  may  be  read  in  Appendix  ii  of 
Mr.  Andrew  Harper's  "Song  of  Solomon"  (1902):  the  book 
forms  a  volume  in  the  series  of  the  Cambridge  Bible  for  Schools. 
Harper's  is  a  very  fine  work,  and  not  the  least  of  its  merits  is 
its  exposition  of  the  difficulties  which  confront  the  attempt  to  deny 
unity  of  plot  and  plan  to  the  Biblical  song.  Harper  also  ex 
presses  a  sound  view  as  to  the  connection  between  love-poetry 
and  mysticism.  "  Sensuality  and  mysticism  are  twin  moods  of 
the  mind."  The  allegorical  significance  of  the  Song  of  Songs  goes 
back  to  the  Targum,  an  English  version  of  which  has  been 
published  by  Professor  H.  Gollancz  in  his  "Translations  from 
Hebrew  and  Aramaic"  (1908). 

Professor  J.  P.  Mahaffy's  view  on  the  Idylls  of  Theocritus  may 
be  read  in  his  "History  of  Greek  Literature,"  ii,  p.  170,  and  in 
several  pages  of  his  "  Greek  Life  and  Thought "  (see  Index, 
s.  «.). 

308 


NOTES— HEBREW  LOVE  SONGS 

The  passage  in  which  Graetz  affirms  the  borrowing  of  the 
pastoral  scheme  by  the  author  of  Canticles  from  Theocritus,  is 
translated  from  p.  69  of  Graetz's  Schir  ha-Schirim,  oder  das 
salomonische  Hohelied  (Vienna,  1871).  Though  the  present 
writer  differs  entirely  from  the  opinion  of  Graetz  on  this  point, 
he  has  no  hesitation  in  describing  Graetz's  Commentary  as  a 
masterpiece  of  brilliant  originality. 

The  rival  theory,  that  Theocritus  borrowed  from  the  Biblical 
Song,  is  supported  by  Professor  D.  S.  Margoliouth,  in  his  "  Lines 
of  Defence  of  the  Biblical  Revelation"  (1900),  pp.  2-7.  He  also 
suggests  (p.  7),  that  Theocritus  borrowed  lines  86-87  of  Idyll 
xxiv  from  Isaiah  xi.  6. 

The  evidence  from  the  scenery  of  the  Song,  in  favor  of  the 
natural  and  indigenous  origin  of  the  setting  of  the  poem,  is 
strikingly  illustrated  in  G.  A.  Smith's  "  Historical  Geography  of 
the  Holy  Land"  (ed.  1901),  pp.  310-311.  The  quotation  from 
Laurence  Oliphant  is  taken  from  his  "  Land  of  Gilead  "  (Lon 
don,  1880). 

Egyptian  parallels  to  Canticles  occur  in  the  hieroglyphic  love- 
poems  published  by  Maspero  in  Etudes  egyptiennes,  i,  pp.  217 
et  seq.,  and  by  Spiegelberg  in  Aegyptiaca  (contained  in  the  Ebers 
Festschrift,  pp.  177  et  seq.}.  Maspero,  describing,  in  1883,  the 
affinities  of  Canticles  to  the  old  Egyptian  love  songs,  uses  almost 
the  same  language  as  G.  E.  Lessing  employed  in  1777,  in  summar 
izing  the  similarities  between  Canticles  and  Theocritus.  It  will 
amuse  the  reader  to  see  the  passages  side  by  side. 

MASPERO  LESSING 

//    n'y    a    personne    qui,    en  Itnmo     sunt     qui     maxima.™, 

lisant     la     traduction     de     ces  similitudinem    inter    Canticum 

chants,    ne   soit   frappe    de    la  Canticorum  et  Theocriti  Idyllla 

ressemblance    qu'ils    presentent       esse  statuant quod  iisdem 

avec  le  Cantique  des  Cantiques.  fere    videtur    esse    verbis,    lo- 

Ce  sont  les  memes  faqons ,  quendi       formulis,       similibus, 

les      memes      images ,      les  transitu,  figuri's. 

memes  comparaisons. 

309 


NOTES— GEORGE  ELIOT  AND  SOLOMON  MAIMON 

If  these  resemblances  were  so  very  striking,  then,  as  argued 
in  the  text  of  this  essay,  the  Idylls  of  Theocritus  ought  to  resemble 
the  Egyptian  poems.  This,  however,  they  utterly  fail  to  do. 

For  my  acquaintance  with  the  modern  Greek  songs  I  am 
indebted  to  Mr.  G.  F.  Abbott's  "  Songs  of  Modern  Greece " 
(Cambridge,  1900).  The  Levantine  character  of  the  melodies 
to  Hebrew  Piyyutim  based  on  the  Song  of  Songs  is  pointed  out 
by  Mr.  F.  L.  Cohen,  in  the  "  Jewish  Encyclopedia,"  i,  p.  294, 
and  iii,  p.  47. 

The  poem  of  Taubah,  and  the  comments  on  it,  are  taken  from 
C.  J.  L.  Lyall's  "  Translations  of  Ancient  Arabic  Poetry,  chiefly 
prae-Islamic "  (1885),  p.  76. 

The  Hebrew  text  of  Moses  ibn  Ezra's  poem — cited  with  refer 
ence  to  the  figure  of  love  surviving  the  grave — may  be  found  in 
Kaempf's  Zehn  Makamen  (1858),  p.  215.  A  German  transla 
tion  is  given,  I  believe,  in  the  same  author's  Nichtandalusische 
Poesie  andalusischer  Dichter. 

Many  Hebrew  love-poems,  in  German  renderings,  are  quoted 
in  Dr.  A.  Sulzbach's  essay,  Die  poetische  Litter atur  (second  sec 
tion,  Die  iveltliche  Poesie),  contributed  to  the  third  volume  of 
Winter  and  Wiinsche's  Jiidische  Litteratur  (1876).  His  com 
ments,  cited  in  my  essay,  occur  in  that  work,  p.  160.  Amy  Levy's 
renderings  of  some  of  Jehudah  Halevi's  love  songs  are  quoted 
by  Lady  Magnus  in  the  first  of  her  "  Jewish  Portraits."  Dr.  J. 
Egers  discusses  Samuel  ha-Nagid's  "  Stammering  Maid "  in  the 
Graetz  Julehchrift  (1877),  pp.  116-126. 

GEORGE  ELIOT  AND  SOLOMON  MAIMON 
(pp.  242-246) 

The  Autobiography  of  Solomon  Maimon  (1754-1800)  was 
published  in  Berlin  (1792-3)  in  two  parts,  under  the  title  Salo 
mon  Maimon's  Lebensgeschichte.  Moses  Mendelssohn  befriended 
Maimon,  in  so  far  as  it  was  possible  to  befriend  so  wayward  a 
personality.  Maimon  made  real  contributions  to  philosophy. 

The  description  of  Daniel  Deronda's  purchase  of  the  volume  is 

310 


NOTES— HOW  MILTON  PRONOUNCED  HEBREW 

contained  in  ch.  xxxiii  of  the  novel.  In  Holborn,  Deronda  came 
across  a  "  second-hand  book-shop,  where,  on  a  narrow  table  out 
side,  the  literature  of  the  ages  was  represented  in  judicious  mix 
ture,  from  the  immortal  verse  of  Homer  to  the  mortal  prose  of 
the  railway  novel.  That  the  mixture  was  judicious  was  apparent 
from  Deronda's  finding  in  it  something  that  he  wanted — namely, 
that  wonderful  piece  of  autobiography,  the  life  of  the  Polish  Jew, 
Salomon  Maimon." 

The  man  in  temporary  charge  of  the  shop  was  Mordecai.  This 
is  his  first  meeting  with  Deronda,  who,  after  an  intensely  dra 
matic  interval,  "  paid  his  half-crown  and  carried  off  his  '  Salomon 
Maimon's  Lebensgeschichte  '  with  a  mere  '  Good  Morning.'  " 

HOW  MILTON  PRONOUNCED  HEBREW 

(pp.  247-250) 

Milton's  transliterations  are  printed  in  several  editions  of  his 
poems;  the  version  used  in  this  book  is  that  given  in  D.  Mas- 
son's  "Poetical  Works  of  Milton,"  iii,  pp.  5-11.  The  notes 
of  the  late  A.  B.  Davidson  on  Milton's  Hebrew  knowledge  are 
cited  in  the  same  volume  by  Masson  (p.  483).  Landor  had  no 
high  opinion  of  Milton  as  a  translator.  "  Milton,"  he  said,  "  was 
never  so  much  a  regicide  as  when  he  lifted  up  his  hand  and 
smote  King  David."  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  Milton's 
familiarity  with  the  original,  whatever  be  the  merit  of  the 
translations.  To  me,  Milton's  rendering  of  Psalm  Ixxxiv  seems 
very  fine. 

The  controversy  between  the  advocates  of  the  versions  of  Rous 
and  Barton — which  led  to  Milton's  effort — is  described  in  Masson, 
ii,  p.  312. 

Reuchlin's  influence  on  the  pronunciation  of  Hebrew  in  Eng 
land  is  discussed  by  Dr.  S.  A.  Hirsch,  in  his  "  Book  of  Essays  " 
(London,  1905),  p.  60.  Roger  Bacon,  at  a  far  earlier  date,  must 
have  pronounced  Hebrew  in  much  the  same  way,  but  he  was 
not  guilty  of  the  monstrosity  of  turning  the  Ayin  into  a  nasal. 
Bacon  (as  may  be  seen  from  the  facsimile  printed  by  Dr.  Hirsch) 
left  the  letter  Ayin  unpronounced,  which  is  by  far  the  best  course 
for  Westerns  to  adopt. 

311 


NOTES— THE  MYSTICS  AND  SAINTS  OF  INDIA 

THE  CAMBRIDGE  PLATONISTS 

(pp.  251-254) 

Henry  More  (1614-1687)  was  the  most  important  of  the 
"  Cambridge  Platonists."  Several  of  his  works  deal  with  the 
Jewish  Cabbala.  More  recognized  a  "Threefold  Cabbala,  Lit 
eral,  Philosophical,  and  Mystical,  or  Divinely  Moral."  He  ded 
icated  his  Conjectura  Cabbalistica  to  Cudworth,  Master  of 
Christ's  College,  Cambridge,  of  which  More  was  a  Fellow.  Cud- 
worth  was  one  of  those  who  attended  the  Whitehall  Conference, 
summoned  by  Cromwell  in  1655  to  discuss  the  readmission  of 
the  Jews  to  England. 

Platonic  influence  was  always  prevalent  in  mystical  thought. 
The  Cabbala  has  intimate  relations  with  neo-Platonism. 

THE  ANGLO-JEWISH  YIDDISH  LITERARY  SOCIETY 

(pp.  255-258) 

The  question  raised  as  to  the  preservation  of  Yiddish  is  not 
unimportant  at  this  juncture.  It  is  clear  that  the  old  struggle 
between  Hebrew  and  Yiddish  for  predominance  as  the  Jewish 
language  must  become  more  and  more  severe  as  Hebrew  ad 
vances  towards  general  acceptance  as  a  living  language. 

Probably  the  struggle  will  end  in  compromise.  Hebrew  might 
become  one  of  the  two  languages  spoken  by  Jews,  irrespective  of 
what  the  other  language  might  happen  to  be. 

THE  MYSTICS  AND  SAINTS  OF  INDIA 

(pp.  259-265) 

The  full  title  of  Professor  Oman's  work  is  "  The  Mystics, 
Ascetics,  and  Saints  of  India.  A  Study  of  Sadhuism,  with  an 
account  of  the  Yogis,  Sanyasis,  Bairagis,  and  other  strange  Hindu 
Sectaries"  (London,  1903). 

The  subject  of  asceticism  in  Judaism  has  of  late  years  been 
more  sympathetically  treated  than  used  to  be  the  case.  The 
Jewish  theologians  of  a  former  generation  were  concerned  to 

312 


NOTES— LOST  PURIM  JOYS 

attack  the  excesses  to  which  an  ascetic  course  of  life  may  lead. 
This  attack  remains  as  firmly  justified  as  ever.  But  to  deny  a 
place  to  asceticism  in  the  Jewish  scheme,  is  at  once  to  pronounce 
the  latter  defective  and  do  violence  to  fact. 

Speaking  of  the  association  of  fasting  with  repentance,  Dr. 
Schechter  says :  "  It  is  in  conformity  with  this  sentiment,  for 
which  there  is  abundant  authority  both  in  the  Scriptures  and  in 
the  Talmud,  that  ascetic  practices  tending  both  as  a  sacrifice 
and  as  a  castigation  of  the  flesh,  making  relapse  impossible,  be 
come  a  regular  feature  of  the  penitential  course  in  the  medieval 
Rabbinic  literature"  ("Some  Aspects  of  Rabbinic  Theology," 
1909,  PP-  339-340). 

Moreover,  the  fuller  appreciation  of  the  idea  of  saintliness, 
and  the  higher  esteem  of  the  mystical  elements  in  Judaism — 
ideas  scarcely  to  be  divorced  from  asceticism — have  helped  to 
confirm  the  newer  attitude.  Here,  too,  Dr.  Schechter  has  done  a 
real  service  to  theology.  The  Second  Series  of  his  "  Studies  in 
Judaism  "  contains  much  on  this  subject.  What  he  has  written 
should  enable  future  exponents  of  Judaism  to  form  a  more 
balanced  judgment  on  the  whole  matter. 

Fortunately,  the  newer  view  is  not  confined  to  any  one  school 
of  Jewish  thought.  The  reader  will  find,  in  two  addresses  con 
tained  in  Mr.  C.  G.  Montefiore's  "Truth  in  Religion"  (1906),  an 
able  attempt  to  weigh  the  value  and  the  danger  of  an  ascetic  view 
of  life.  It  wTas,  indeed,  time  that  the  Jewish  attitude  towards  so 
powerful  a  force  should  be  reconsidered. 

LOST  PURIM  JOYS 

(pp.  266-272) 

The  burning  of  Haman  in  effigy  is  recorded  in  the  Responsa 
of  a  Gaon  published  by  Professor  L.  Ginzberg  in  his  "  Geniza 
Studies"  ("Geonica,"  ii,  pp.  1-3).  He  holds  that  the  statement 
as  to  the  employment  of  "  Purim  bonfires  among  the  Babylonian 
and  Elamitic  Jews  as  given  in  the  Aruch  (s.  v.  *WV)  undoubt 
edly  goes  back  to  this  Responsum." 

313 


NOTES— THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

On  Purim  parodies  much  useful  information  will  be  found  in 
Dr.  Israel  Davidson's  "Parody  in  Jewish  Literature"  (New 
York,  1907).  See  Index  s.  ev.  Purim  (p.  289). 

For  a  statement  of  the  supposed  connection  between  Purim 
and  other  spring  festivals,  see  Paul  Haupt's  "Purim"  (Balti 
more,  1906),  and  the  article  in  the  "Encyclopaedia  Biblica,"  cols. 
3976-3983.  Such  theories  do  not  account  adequately  for  the 
Book  of  Esther. 

Schudt  (Jiidische  Merkwiirdigkeiten,  1713,  ii,  p.  314)  gives  a 
sprightly  account  of  what  seems  to  have  been  the  first  public 
performance  of  a  Purim  play  in  Germany. 

JEWS  AND  LETTERS 
(pp.  273-289) 

Leopold  Low  investigated  the  history  of  writing,  and  of  the 
materials  used  among  the  Jews,  in  his  Graphische  Requisiten 
und  Erzeugnisse  bei  den  Juden  (2-  vols.,  Leipzig,  1870-71). 

On  Jewish  letter-carriers  in  Germany,  see  the  article  of  Dr.  I. 
Kracauer  in  the  "Jewish  Encyclopedia,"  viii,  p.  15.  The  first 
Post-Jude  is  named  in  1722.  These  Jewish  letter-carriers  re 
ceived  no  salary  from  the  Government,  but  collected  a  fee  from 
the  recipients  of  the  letters. 

The  Talmudic  Be-Davvar  pKn-"3)  was  really  a  Court  of 
Justice  (perhaps  a  Circuit  Court).  As,  however,  dawvar  meant 
a  despatch-bearer,  the  phrase  Be-Davvar  passed  over  later  into 
the  meaning  Post-Office.  Dawar  seems  connected  with  the  root 
dur,  "to  form  a  circle"  ;  the  pael  form  (davvar)  would  mean 
"  to  go  around,"  perhaps  to  travel  with  merchandise  and  letters. 

THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

(pp.  290-300) 

In  the  twentieth  chapter  of  Proverbs  v.  17,  we  find  the  maxim: 
"  Bread  gained  by  fraud  is  sweet  to  a  man, 
But  afterwards  his  mouth  will  be  filled  with  gravel." 
314 


NOTES— THE  SHAPE  OF  MATZOTH 

The  exact  point  of  this  comparison  was  brought  home  to  me 
when  I  spent  a  night  at  Modin,  the  ancient  home  of  the  Macca 
bees.  Over  night  I  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  a  Bedouin.  In  the 
morning  I  was  given  some  native  bread  for  breakfast.  I  was 
very  hungry,  and  I  took  a  large  and  hasty  bite  at  the  bread, 
when  lo!  my  mouth  was  full  of  gravel.  They  make  the  bread 
as  follows:  One  person  rolls  the  dough  into  a  thin  round  cake 
(resembling  a  Matzah),  while  another  person  places  hot  cinders 
on  the  ground.  The  cake  is  put  on  the  cinders  and  gravel,  and 
an  earthenware  pot  is  spread  over  all,  to  retain  the  heat.  Hence 
the  bread  comes  out  with  fragments  of  gravel  and  cinder  in  it. 
Woe  betide  the  hasty  eater!  Compare  Lamentations  iii.  16, 
"  He  hath  broken  my  teeth  with  gravel  stones."  This,  then,  may 
be  the  meaning  of  the  proverb  cited  at  the  head  of  this  note. 
Bread  hastily  snatched,  advantages  thoughtlessly  or  fraudulently 
grasped,  may  appear  sweet  in  anticipation,  but  eventually  they 
fill  a  man's  mouth  with  gravel. 

The  quotation  from  Paulus  Aringhus'  Roma  subterranea 
novissima  will  be  found  in  vol.  ii,  p.  533  of  the  first  edition 
(Rome,  1651).  This  work,  dealing  mainly  with  the  Christian 
sepulchres  in  Rome,  was  reprinted  in  Amsterdam  (1659)  and 
Arnheim  (1671),  and  a  German  translation  appeared  in  Arnheim 
in  1668.  The  first  volume  (pp.  390  et  seq.)  fully  describes  the 
Jewish  tombs  in  Rome,  and  cites  the  Judeo-Greek  inscriptions. 
There  is  much  else  to  interest  the  Jewish  student  in  these  two 
stately  and  finely  illustrated  folios. 


315 


INDEX 


Aaron  of  Bagdad,    132. 

Abarbanel,    Isaac,    118. 

Abdemon    at    Hiram's    Court,    302. 

Abner,    71. 

Abraham,  the  Patriarch,  66,  68, 
92. 

Absalom,  71. 

Achimaaz,  Chronicle  of,  127,  132, 
305- 

Achoth   Ketannah,    melody,    218. 

Adam  and  Eve  at  Hebron,  67,  68, 
79- 

Akiba,    147,    198. 

Akrish,    Isaac,    20. 

Alami,    Solomon,    238. 

Alexander  the  Great's  city  foun 
dations,  216. 

Alexandria,    129. 

Alexandrian    Songs,    194. 

Alfonso   V,    n 8. 

Alfred  the  Great  translates  Boe- 
thius,  117. 

Allegorization    of    Canticles,    217. 

Alliance  Israelite,  65,  85,   89,    140. 

Alonzo    of    Aragon,    109. 

Alphabetum    Siracidis,    162,    306. 

Alroy,    131. 

Amarna    tablets,    279. 
Amoraim     and     their     correspond 
ence,    283. 

Amos,    67. 

Anacreon,    17,    215,    217. 

Anglo-Jewish  Association,  85,   88. 

Anka,    307. 

Arabic  lore,  18,  48;  love  songs, 
184,  232;  in  the  liturgy,  180; 
poetical  forms,  223. 


Architecture,    Oriental,    76. 

Aringhus  on  the  form  of  Eu- 
charistic  loaves,  294;  his 
Roma  subterranca,  315. 

Aristotle,   54,    161. 

Arnold,   Matthew,  96. 

Arrows  as  missives,  278. 

Asceticism  in  Judaism,  259,  313. 

Asia  Minor,    147,    153. 

Asmodeus,    22. 

Ass  in  legend,  40,  54,    132,   168. 

Assouan    Papyri,    280. 

Baalshem,  Israel,    179. 

Bachurim    on    their    travels,     135, 

146. 

Bacon,  Francis,   112. 
Bacon,   Roger,   311. 
Badge  discarded  in  wayfaring,  126. 
Bamberger,  of  Wiirzburg,  289. 
Barcelona,    n,    21,    59,    234. 
Bar-Cochba,    71,    135,    282. 
Bari,    133. 

Barton's  Psalter,  247,  311. 
Bath-Kol,  1 80. 
Battus,   in   Theocritus,    211. 
Beaucaire,  Bachurim  at,   147. 
Be-Davvar,   275,    314. 
Bedouins,   77,   80,   87,  315. 
Beggars,    travelling,    143. 
Benfey,     165. 

Benjamin  of  Tudela,  131,  147,  305. 
Benveniste,   Sheshet,  60. 
Benvenuto,    132. 
Berach    Dodi,     melody,     218. 
Berechiah    ha-Nakdan,    150,    167. 
Beriah  and  Tamar,  235. 


317 


INDEX 


Bethlehem,  67,  74,  79,  87. 

Beth-Zacharias,    67. 

Beth-Zur,   67. 

Bidpai,   150. 

Boar  in  legend,    168. 

Boccaccio,    169. 

Bodley   founds   his   library   at   Ox 

ford,  1  1  8. 
Boethius,   117. 
Bonfires  on  Purim,  267. 
"  Book  of  Delight,"  9  et  seq.,  301. 
"  Book  of  the  Pious,"  99,  155,  179, 

304- 
"  Book-Lover's    Enchiridion,"    101, 

113,    304- 
Bottle-making,  86. 
Bread  of   Bedouins,    315. 
Brentano,   229. 
Bridge    Laws,    151. 
Buddhist    Legends,    150. 
Burial  Laws  in  Angevin  England, 


Cabbala,   252,   259,   312. 

Caleb,    71. 

Cambridge   Platonists,   251. 

Captives,  ransom  of,   140. 

Caro,  Joseph,   107. 

Carvajal,  Antonio  Fernandes,   153. 

Chananiah,   282. 

Chanukah,   281. 

Charizi  as  writer  of  rhymed  prose, 
10  ;  as  traveller,  134;  as  trans 
mitter  of  folk-tales,  150;  as 
author  of  love  poems,  229. 

Charles  the  Great,  127. 

Chasdai  and  the  Chazars,  284. 

Chaucer,    120. 

Chesterfield,  Lord,  101. 

"  Choice  of  Pearls,"   18. 

Cicero,    113. 

Clare,  John,  121. 

"  Clever  Girl,  The,  and  the  King's 
Dream,"  37. 

Cologne,    128. 

Conversation,  22,  48,  133. 


Costume    on    journeys,    125. 
Crawford  Haggadah,  298. 
Crocodile  in  folk-tales,  165. 
Cromwell,    154. 

Cudworth     at     Whitehall     Confer 
ence,   312. 

Daniel   Deronda,    172,    244,    310. 

Dante,   235. 

Daphnis,   208. 

David,   King,    67,    71,   279. 

Demons,  21,  55  et  seq. 

Demosthenes,   104. 

Diogenes,  34,  49. 

"  Dishonest    Singer,    The,    and   the 

Wedding  Robes,"   40. 
Divination,    176. 
Dog,  Tobit's,    19. 
Dogs  in  the  East,  77. 
Dove  as  messenger,  278. 
Dyers,  73. 

Ecclesiasticus,    199,    307. 

Eclogues,  194. 

Egyptian  love  songs,  309;  parallels 

to    Canticles,    207,    215. 
Elijah,   148. 
Elijah,    Gaon,    139. 
Eliot,   George,    172,   174,   242. 
Emotionalism    of    Jews,    272. 
Enan   in   the   "  Book  of  Delight," 

28. 

Erasmus,    113,  304. 
Erter,    13. 

Essenes  as  travellers,  141. 
Eucharistic    loaves,    291. 
Euphrates,  131. 

Fairs,  144. 

Fasting,  313. 

Flowers    in    Palestine,    201. 

"  Fox  and  Hole,"   52. 

"  Fox,  The,  and  the  Leopard,"  29. 

"  Fox  and  Lion,"  30. 

"  Fox's    Heart,    The,"    159    et   seq. 

Franco,   Rachmim   Joseph,   82. 


318 


INDEX 


Gaeta,    132. 

Galilee,   135. 

Gamaliel,   282. 

Geiger,  n,  230. 

Gelasius,  pope,  302. 

Geonim,    correspondence    of,    282. 

Gershom,    Rabbenu,   287. 

Ghetto  regulations  as  to  residence, 

141. 

Giants,   22,   27,   62,   63. 
Gil  Bias,  21. 
Gilbert  de  Porre,    100. 
Gilead,  shepherds  of,  200. 
Glassware    at    Hebron,    86. 
Goethe,    229. 
Graetz,   120,   196,  243,  305,   309. 

Hadrian,  71. 

Uaggadah,    illuminated,    297. 

Ha-Gomel,    148. 

Haman,  effigy,  266,  313. 

Hafiz,   223-4. 

Haram,    enclosure    at    Hebron,    88. 

Haroun  al-Rashid,    139. 

Heart,  legends  and  poems  concern 
ing  the,  159  et  seq. 

Hebrew  as  living  language,  220, 
312. 

Hebron,    62    et   seq.,    148. 

Heine,   160,  240. 

Helen  and  Shulammith,  214. 

Helena,    127. 

Herod,  65,  89. 

Hillel,    145,    200. 

Hindu  saints,  259. 

Hosea,    195. 

Hypatia,  138. 

Fin    Chasdai,   Abraham,   author   of 

"  Prince    and    Dervish,"    150, 

234- 
Ibn  Baud,  Abraham,  at  Narbonne, 

147- 
Ibn  Ezra,  Abraham,  as  traveller, 

147;    his    optimism,     149;     as 

lyricist,   225. 


Ibn   Ezra,    Moses,   author   of   love 

songs,   223,   231. 
Ibn  Gabirol,  Solomon,  as  writer  of 

metrical  epistles,  221;  his  love 

poems,    229. 
Ibn    Nagrela,    Samuel,    author    of 

the  "  Stammering  Maid,"  221. 
Ibn  Tibbon,   Judah,   on   the   solace 

of  books,    93,    303. 
Ibn   Verga,    author    of   the   Shebet 

Jehudah,   159. 

Ibrahim,    Pasha  of  Egypt,   91. 
Idylls  of  Theocritus,   202,   308. 
Iggereth,  286. 
Immanuel  of  Rome,  235. 
Indian    folk-lore,     17;     saints    and 

mystics,   259,   312. 
Isaac,  91;  his  marriage,   180. 
Isaac  of  Erfurt,   129. 
Ishbosheth,  71. 


Jaabez   Press,    20. 

Jaffa,  87. 

Jain  ascetics,  265. 

Jamnia,  95. 

Jebb,   Richard,    115. 

Jehudah  Halevi,  journeys  to  Pales 
tine,  134;  quoted,  170;  his 
love  poems,  223  et  seq. 

Jerusalem,   62,  66,   70,    156,   157. 

Jezebel,   279. 

Joab,   71. 

Jose   bar   Chalafta,    172. 

Josephus,    129,    302. 

Joshua,  277. 

Judah    I,    135. 

Judah  the  Pious,  99,   104. 

Kalilah    ve-Dimnah,    9. 
Kalir,   221,   297. 

Karma  (Indian)  and  Zechuth  (He 
brew),  264. 
Kevlaar,    160. 
Kimchi  family,  n,  278. 
Kiriath-arba,  71. 


319 


INDEX 


Lamb,  Charles,  116. 

Lanterns,    76. 

Lazarus,  Emma,  230. 

Leisure  and  learning,  200. 

Leopard  cycle  in  Zabara,  28  et  seq. 

Letter-writing,     155,    289. 

Levantine  melodies  for  Piyyutim, 
218. 

Levantine  trade,   153. 

Leviathan  in  legend,   162  et  seq. 

Levy,  Amy,  230,  310. 

Libellarius,  280. 

Licenses   to   travel,    124. 

Lightfoot,  93. 

Lion  in   folk-tales,    30,    167. 

Lorenz,   Bishop,    126. 

Lovelace,    186. 

"  Lover's  Companion,"  on  Persian 
Rhetoric,  225. 

Love    songs,    Hebrew,    184    et   seq. 

Low,    Leopold,    314. 

Luria,  Isaac,  239. 

Luzzatto,  Ephraim,  author  of  He 
brew  sonnets,  240. 

Ltizzatto,  Moses  Chayyim,  239. 

Maccabean  sites,  67. 

Macedonian    folk-songs,    218,    310. 

Machberoth  Immanuel,  235  et  seq. 

Machpelah,  Cave  of,  65,  74,  88, 
303- 

Maharil,    134. 

Maimon,    Solomon,    242,    310. 

Maimonides,  in  Hebron,  72;  his 
Mislmeh  Torah,  107;  as  trav 
eller,  134;  his  criticism  of  mu 
sical  songs,  237;  as  writer  of 
Respotisa,  281;  his  "Guide  of 
the  Perplexed,"  284;  refers 
to  leather  scrolls,  286. 

Mamre,    68,    70. 

Mannheim,    152. 

"  Man's  Love  and  Woman's,"  32. 

Marcolf,  22,  301. 

Marcolis-Mercury,  302. 

Marcolphus,    302. 


Marcus  Aurelius,    115. 

Mariners'   tales,    145. 

Markets   in   Middle   Ages,    126. 

Marriage  song,  227. 

"  Marriages  are  made  in  Heaven," 

172   et  seq.,   307. 
Martial's   epigrams,    105. 
Martineau,    James,    115. 
Matzoth,  83,   290,  315. 
Mauclerc,    25. 

"  Maxims  of  the  Philosophers,"  18. 
Medieval  wayfaring,    122   et  seq. 
Megillah,    reading  the,    in. 
Melodies,    218,   238. 
Memory  specific,  297. 
Mendelssohn,    Moses,    179,    310. 
Messengers,   277. 
Milton,    104,    117,    186,    219,    247, 

253,  311- 
Miracles,    132. 
Mishle   Shiialim,    167. 
Missions,   63,   281. 
Modin,    77,    315. 
Monkey   in    folk-tales,    165,    166. 
Monogamy,    191. 
Montaigne,  94,   112,  304. 
Moore,   Thomas,    114. 
More,    Henry,    252,    312. 
Morolf,  22,   301. 
Moza   Colony,    73. 
Musicians,    149. 
Mysticism    and    love,    217    et    seq., 

238-9,  308. 

Nachmanides  in  Hebron,  72;  as  let 
ter-writer,  157,  306. 

Najara,  Israel,  author  of  mystical 
hymns,  238. 

Name,    Divine,    131,    160. 

Narbonne,    147. 

Natronai,    131. 

Nehemiah,  71,  280. 

New   Moon,   276. 

Nike,    213. 

Nineveh,  125. 

Neubauer,    109. 


320 


INDEX 


Noah  and  the  dove,  278. 
"  Nobleman,    The,    and   the   Neck 
lace,"   41. 

Oak,  Abraham's,  69. 

Obadiah  of  Bertinoro,  72,  155,  306. 

Ophrah,    228-9. 

Oria,    133. 

Packmen,    Jewish,   288. 
Pal'dstinischer  Diwan,    308. 
Palestine,    envoys    from,    144;    vis 
itors   to,    63,    67,    72,    73,    127, 

128,    306. 

Pantschatantra,  165,  177. 
Paper,    286. 
Papyrus,   286. 
Paradise,  67,  79. 
"  Paradise  and  Hell,"  235. 
"  Paralytic's,    The,    Touchstone    of 

Virtue,"   47. 

Parodies,   Purim,   268,  314. 
Persia,   134. 

Persian  love-poetry,  223. 
Petachiah,   125,    133. 
Philo,    131,    251. 
Philobiblon,  97,  304. 
Physicians,  Satires  on,  12. 
Picard,   291,  293,   294. 
Plato,    101,    176. 
Pliny,    159,    160-1. 
Pools  of   Solomon,    66. 
Postal      arrangements     in     Jewry, 

144,  273  et  seq. 
Prague,   125. 

"  Prince   and   Dervish,"    234. 
"  Princess,    The,    and    the    Rose," 

52. 
Printing,     effect    of,     on     reading, 

1 06. 

Proverb  lore,  n,  25,  38,  130. 
"  Proverbs  of  the  Wise,"  18. 
Psalter,  English  Metrical  Versions, 

247  et  seq. 
Purim  joys,  266. 
Purim  plays,  269. 


Queen    Sabbath,    239. 

Rab,    179. 

Raba,   177. 

Rachel,  tomb  of,  66. 

Radhi,   Billah,  223. 

Ramet   el-Khalil,   70,   303. 

Ramleh,   128. 

Raphael,    175. 

Reading,    102   et  seq. 

Rebekah,  91. 

Refrains  in  Hebrew  lyrics,  204. 

Rehoboam,   71. 

Repertory  theory  of  the  structure 
of  Canticles,  202,  219,  308. 

Responsa,  how  communicated,  283. 

Reubeni,   David,   72,  73. 

Reuchlin,   249,    311. 

Rhymed    prose,    26. 

Rhythmic  movement  in  study  and 
prayer,  95. 

Richard  of  Bury,  97,  303. 

Riddles,  23,  25,  220. 

Roman    letter-carriers,    274. 

Romanelli,   Samuel,  239. 

Rome,    143,    315. 

Rous,  Francis,  and  the  Psalter, 
247,  311. 

Routes  followed  by  Jewish  trav 
ellers  and  merchants  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  135,  153. 

Ruth,    195. 

Saadia,  119,  297. 

Sabbatai  Zebi,   74,   245. 

Sabbath,   136,  239. 

Sacaea  and   Purim,   269. 

Sadhu    and    Yogi,    260. 

Sailors,  Jewish,    137. 

Saladin,   128. 

Solomon        Maitnon's        Lebensge- 

schichte,  243,  310. 
Sambatyon,    river,    145. 
Sanballat,    281. 
Satan,  15,  55. 
Saturn,  22,  301. 


321 


INDEX 


Saul,  279. 

Schudt,    314. 

Secular  Hebrew  poetry,  219. 

Sefer  ha-Galui,  119. 

Sefer  Rasiel,   296. 

"  Sendabar,"  18. 

"  Separation,"    230. 

Sepphoris,    135,    145. 

Seudoth  Mitzvah,    148. 

Seven    Benedictions    at    Wedding, 

1 80. 

Shadchan,    134,    144. 
Shakespeare,   117,    175,   186,   189. 
Sheba,   Queen   of,   25. 
Shebet  Jchudah,  160. 
Shechinah,    117. 

Sheliach  Kolel   in  Algiers,    140. 
Shepherd   life  idealized,    196. 
Shipowners,   Jewish,    153. 
Shulammith,     186. 
Sicilian  rural  life,  194;  love  songs, 

194. 

Signals,    276. 
"  Silversmith,    The,    who    followed 

his    Wife's    Counsel,"    31. 
Simaitha,   202. 
Simon  the  Pious,   128. 
"  Sindbad,"    9. 
Singers,    41. 
Socrates,    34. 
Soferim,  or  Scribes,  280. 
Solace   of   books,    93   et  seq. 
Solomon,   King,    120,    140;    in   leg 
end,   21,   181,  284,   301-2,   307. 
Solomon-Marcolf   legend,    10,    301. 
Solomon   the    Levite,   Don,    159. 
"  Son,  The,  and  the  Slave,"  42. 
Song  of  Songs,   185  et  seq. 
Spencer,  Herbert,   112. 
Spenser,    Edmund,    120,   219. 
Spring    in    nature    and    in    poetry, 

186,    194. 
"  Stammering    Maid,    The,"     222, 

310. 
Steinschneider,    n,    20,    105,    162, 

306,    307. 


322 


Stevenson,  R.  L.,  105. 

"  Stories  of  King  Solomon,"  18. 

Stype,  John,  94. 

Synagogues    in    Hebron,    81. 

Synesius   of   Cyrene,    136,    305. 

Swift,    Jonathan,    105. 

Tabellarius,    274. 

Table  Talk,  48;  see  also  Conversa 
tion. 

Tarn,  Jacob,   288. 

Tannery  at  Hebron,   86. 

Targum    on    Canticles,    308. 

Taubah,   232. 

Tekoah,  66. 

Temple    dues,    131. 

Tennyson's    "  Maud,"    231. 

Threes  in  proverbial  maxims,  50. 

Theocritus  and  Canticles,  189,  192 
et  seq. 

Thyrsis,    208. 

Tiberias,   129. 

Tigris,   125. 

Tobit,    19,   43,    161,    175,   307. 

Tombs,  Oriental  veneration  of,  66, 
71,  88,  145,  315. 

Town  life  in  Greek  period,  216. 

Traffic  on  Palestinian  roads,  75. 

Travellers,   122  et  seq. 

Trier,    128. 

Troubadours,    184. 

Uggoth  Matzoth,  292. 

Venice,   152. 

Vintage   songs,    188. 

Virtuous  Woman  of  Proverbs,  191. 

Wasf,    Syrian   marriage   ode,    185, 

192,   216. 
"  Washerwoman,  The,  who  did  the 

Devil's  Work,"  57. 
Wayfarers,  prayer  for,  130;  prayers 

of,   US- 
Weavers,    73. 
Wedding  processions,  149, 


INDEX 


Western  influences  on  Orient,  63. 

Wetzstein   and  the   wasf,    308. 

"  Widow,  The,  and  her  Husband's 

Corpse,"     35. 

"Widow's   Vow,   The,"    15. 
Wine-making,  84. 
Wisdom  of  Solomon,   121,  304. 
"  Women's    Contentions,"    15. 
Women,  treatment  of,  in  medieval 

literature,     14,     16,     34,     234, 

236,  239. 
Women  pilgrims,   124-5,    I27« 


"Woodcutter,       The,       and      the 

Woman,"   31. 
Writing  materials,  285. 

Yalkut,    167;    Reubeni,    178. 
Yiddish,   255,   312. 

Zabara,    Joseph,    9    et    seq.,    234, 

301. 

Zebi    Hirsch,    165. 
Zephyrinus,    Pope,    291. 
Zoheir,  224. 


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